by Alexa Aston
Lora stepped forward and dropped a curtsey to Jessimond’s parents, urging Lina to do the same. “I am sorry my sister burst into the room and we haven’t been properly introduced to one another. You know I am Lora de Challon and Lina is my younger sister. May I inquire who you might be?”
Jessimond stepped forward to make the introduction. “These are my parents, Lord Geoffrey and Lady Merryn de Montfort. They are the Earl and Countess of Kinwick.”
“Your parents?” Lina asked, her shock obvious. “Father said that you’d been left at Kinwick and that serfs must have taken you in.” She frowned. “So, why were you traveling with a mummers’ troupe if you are part of the nobility? Was it to escape your parents? Do they treat you less than their own children?”
Horrified by the girl’s indiscreet questions, Jessimond started to reply—but Lina looked to Merryn and boldly asked, “Is it hard loving someone who isn’t truly your child? Do you make Jessimond clean the keep and wait on your children like a servant?”
“Lina!” her father roared, his face darkening in anger.
The girl shrugged. “I’m merely curious, Father. I cannot imagine finding a babe and bringing it home, only to treat it like a family member.”
“That’s exactly who Jessimond is to us, Lina,” Merryn said firmly, her tone indicating she would tolerate no nonsense from the youngest de Challon. “From the moment Geoffrey and Nan brought Jessimond home, she became an integral part of our family. I can’t think of her as anything but a de Montfort. Sometimes, I think she is the most loved of all of our children because she is the youngest of six and no more came after her.”
Lina looked amazed hearing such a revelation. “Even though she didn’t grow in your belly, you really think of her as your own? You truly love her as much as one of your other children?”
“Aye,” Geoffrey said, his voice strong, brokering no doubt. “Jessimond is a de Montfort, through and through. I love Jessimond no less—and no more—than her other siblings. Merryn and I do love each of our children in different ways, though. Sometimes, one child needs more attention lavished upon them than another one, but our hearts have room to love them all.”
Jessimond finally spoke up. “I already have a family—but I came to Netherfield in order to have the opportunity to spend time with my birth father and my half-siblings. To get to know you. You may not ever love me but I hope we can at least become friends.”
“I would like that,” Lora said, her eyes brimming with tears. She reached and took Jessimond’s hand and squeezed it.
Not to be outdone, Lina latched on to the other one. “Would you like to see the keep, Jessimond?”
Before she could reply, three servants arrived with trays of food.
“Let’s enjoy our meal first,” Lord Gregory recommended. “Jessimond and her parents have been traveling and could use some food and drink.”
As they sat, her half-sisters on each side of her, Jessimond hoped that these girls would accept her as readily as all the de Montforts had done on that day almost a score ago.
Chapter 25
Jessimond watched Lora twirl about, a sweet smile on her face.
“It’s lovely, Jessimond. I can’t imagine anyone having a finer bridal gown. You have crafted a work of art with your needle,” Lora exclaimed.
“I was happy to do this for you,” she said. “Hopefully, Richmond will like it as much as you do.”
Her half-sister glowed as she smoothed the blue silk skirts. “I had the same thought,” she confided. “I’m very happy that the betrothal contracts were signed while you are at Netherfield and that you can attend the nuptial mass.”
Jessimond had enjoyed the past three weeks at Netherfield, though she’d been very tired of late. She supposed all that time on the road with the mummers had finally caught up to her. Her appetite, too, had suffered since she’d arrived. The rich sauces and heavy spicing had not been to her liking. She longed for what she’d grown accustomed to, the simpler fare she’d prepared for the mummers.
“Have you decided about the trim we discussed earlier?” she asked.
“I think you should sew it on,” Lina voiced. “On both the hem and the sleeves.”
Jessimond hid a smile. Lina had to be the most opinionated person she’d ever met. When it was her time to wed, Jessimond only hoped Lina’s husband would be able to handle his bride.
“I did like it,” Lora said, hesitating. “Would you have time to add it to the hem, Jessimond?”
“Of course,” she assured Lora. “The wedding is not for another two days. I can easily finish up tomorrow.”
A servant entered the bedchamber. “My lady, Lord Gregory would like to speak to you in the solar.”
“Thank you,” Jessimond told her. To Lina, she said, “Help your sister remove her gown. Spread it across the chest so as not to wrinkle it. I’ll claim it in the morning.”
She hurried from the girls’ chamber and went to her own. That queasiness had struck her again. Jessimond did not want to be ill for the wedding nor did she want to bring sickness to Lora. She reached her chamber and rushed inside, closing the door, and then moved to the basin. No sooner had she leaned over it than what little she’d eaten earlier came back up. She rinsed the awful taste from her mouth and wiped it with a cloth. Touching her forehead, she felt no sign of fever. She wished she could shake off the dull nausea.
Not wanting to keep Lord Gregory waiting, she made her way to the solar and knocked. He bid her to enter and Jessimond joined him at the table where he sat. She noticed he’d set up the chessboard again. It had become their habit to play a game or two while they conversed.
“How was your day?” he asked.
“Very good. Lora and I visited a few of the tenants and took them some food. I also worked on her wedding gown. It’s almost complete except for a trim along the hem that I’ll add.”
“Lora told me how pleased she is with it. It was very good of you to take on such an elaborate project.”
Jessimond moved her first piece along the board. “I enjoy sewing and am happy to contribute to such a happy occasion.”
The baron moved his chess piece. “Richmond will be a good match for Lora. He’s an earnest, steady fellow. I think they’ll suit one another well.” He paused. “My offer still stands. If you wish for me to look for a husband for you, I am willing to do so.”
“Nay, but I thank you,” she said politely, once more shutting the door to that topic.
Jessimond had explained previously that she wasn’t betrothed and that none of the de Montfort children had been. Lora and Lina had thought her mad when she told them that de Montforts all married for love. The two sisters had argued back and forth about it. Jessimond had caught her birth father staring at her wistfully and knew that he understand exactly what she spoke of. He had loved at one time in his life but had been unable to wed that love. She neglected to tell him that she, too, loved another though she could never become his wife.
As they played their game, Jessimond asked questions about Celia Achard. Her curiosity about her birth mother only grew the more she found out about Celia.
“Did you ever meet any of her family? What were they like?”
Lord Gregory sighed. “Her father, Lord Americ, was Baron of Sturnwick. He was an adviser to the king and did not make much time for Celia. He brought her to court to find her a husband but then neglected to do so. Celia was left on her own most of the day. With her sweet disposition and beauty, she was envied—and ignored—by most of the ladies at court.”
“And her mother?”
“The baroness died when Celia’s younger brother was born. She rarely spoke of her mother. From what little she said, her two brothers had little to do with her when they were home from fostering.”
Jessimond thought how different her life had been and said a swift prayer to the Virgin, thanking Her for the large, loving family she’d been raised in. “She must have been so lonely.”
“Aye, she was.” Lord Grego
ry frowned. “Seeing that loneliness drew me to her. I wanted to comfort her.”
“You did love her, didn’t you, my lord?”
He took a long pull from his wine goblet. “I did. I didn’t want to. I even tried to stay away from her. In the end, I couldn’t.”
Jessimond recalled how Marcus had also avoided her, only to be drawn back to her. Her throat thickened with emotion.
“How did you learn of her death?” she finally asked.
“Through Sir Rodric. You’ve met him. He was the knight I designated to escort Celia and you to her home. He’s a man I have always trusted, from the time I was a young boy. Sir Rodric continued on his journey in order to take Celia’s body home. That way, she could be buried next to her mother.”
“Have you ever visited her grave?”
“Nay. It wasn’t my place to do so. I was not her husband. I was Egelina’s. After Sir Rodric informed me of Celia’s tragic passing, it shook me to my core. I vowed to God Himself that from that moment on, I would be a better man than the one I’d been up until then. I swore to be faithful to my wife and be a good father to my children.” He gave her a steady look. “All of them. I’m grateful that we have finally found one another, Jessimond.”
“I have enjoyed getting to know you, my lord.”
The baron winced. “I hate how formal that sounds. I realize that Geoffrey de Montfort raised you and he alone should be called Father by you. I only wish you could call me something other than Lord Gregory.”
Jessimond thought a moment. “What if I refer to you as Uncle Gregory?” she mused. “’Tis not as formal and still conveys a family relationship.”
He smiled. “I would very much like that, Jessimond.”
They continued their game in silence until its completion. As usual, she emerged as the victor. When they’d first starting playing against one another, she thought he allowed her to win but he shared that he’d never been much of a chess player. His smile each time she defeated him told Jessimond of his pride in her.
“I think I will retire for the evening,” she said. “The hour grows late. I find I am tired.”
“Thank you for spending this past hour with me, Jessimond. I look forward to our conversations. Once Lora is wed and leaves Netherfield, mayhap you will have more time available for me.”
She laughed. “I fear Lina will demand even more of it with her sister gone.” Standing, she brushed a kiss on his cheek for the first time. “Good night, Uncle Gregory.”
“Good night,” he echoed.
Jessimond turned as he brushed a tear away and left the solar.
*
Jessimond went to help Lora dress for her wedding. She found her half-sister pacing the bedchamber she shared with Lina.
“What’s wrong?” Jessimond asked as she closed the door.
“I don’t know what to do tonight,” Lora moaned, wringing her hands. “I was so young when Mother died so she never told me anything. I’m so frightened.” She threw herself onto the bed and buried her face.
Lina, sitting in a nearby chair, shrugged. “The servants say it hurts.”
Lora’s head popped up. “It hurts? Why did they tell you and not me?”
“Because I asked about it,” Lina retorted. “I saw a groom and a serving wench coupling in the stables. They were both moaning and then she shrieked something awful. I couldn’t very well ask them so I spoke to several of our servants.”
“When was this?” Lora asked, her eyes welling with tears. “You never told me about the incident.”
“I was seven or eight, I think.” Lina began pacing the room now. “They all repeated the same thing. That it’s a duty you must do, whether you like it or not. If you lie still and keep quiet, it passes quickly.”
Jessimond decided to take the situation in hand. “Both of you. Sit. Now.”
Lina returned to the chair. Lora pushed herself up and glanced hopefully at Jessimond, who took a seat next to her on the bed.
“I will tell you what I know,” she confided, and proceeded to describe love play as Merryn had, adding in a little of her own experience from her single coupling with Marcus.
“It sounds like it hurts only a little,” Lora said. “I hate pain, though.”
“It won’t last but a moment,” Jessimond assured her. “Love play will bring a couple closer together. Remember, you and Richmond will act in unison in all matters once you are married.”
Lora bit her lip. “What . . . what if I don’t please him?” she whispered.
“You should be worried about him pleasing you,” Jessimond retorted.
For a moment, a shocked silence filled the room, and then Lora and Lina erupted in laughter.
Lora hugged her. “You are so different from all the women I know, Jessimond. I am proud to call you sister.”
Lina wiggled between them and also hugged Jessimond. “I call you sister, as well. And I want only you to sew my bridal gown when I wed. It will be even fancier than Lora’s. I think green. Or mayhap yellow. Father always says he likes me in yellow.”
“You have a few years to decide,” Jessimond said. “It’s time now to ready your sister for her special day.”
She brushed Lora’s hair until it shone and then braided it intricately, pinning it up and intertwining the braids as she did so. Lina handed her the crown of flowers the two of them had woven together yesterday afternoon and Jessimond placed it atop Lora’s head. She helped the bride step into her wedding finery and then surveyed her handiwork.
“You look like a princess!” exclaimed Lina.
A light tap sounded at the door and then Lord Gregory poked his head in. A brilliant smile broke out on his face as he entered.
“I came looking for my daughter but only see a princess,” he said.
“Oh, Father, do I really look like a princess?” Lora asked. “Both you and Lina think so.”
“You do, my dearest. So does that make me a king?” he teased.
All three of them laughed at his wit.
“It’s time to go,” he told them, holding out his arm.
Lora took it and they proceeded to the Netherfield chapel, where a large crowd had gathered. Lord Gregory escorted Lora to the front steps, where Richmond waited with the Netherfield priest. Jessimond and Lina stopped a few paces away and Lina reached for Jessimond’s hand, holding it tightly.
As the ceremony proceeded, Jessimond’s thoughts rambled far away to other happy times in her family, and other weddings she’d witnessed. Her parents were the picture of wedded bliss after decades of marriage, and each of her five siblings had been blessed to find their soul mate. Jessimond struggled with being the only unwed de Montfort, knowing she’d found love and lost it so cruelly.
The assembled group moved inside for the mass. As the priest droned on, her belly knotted painfully. Her head hurt. Her heart ached. In that moment, Jessimond had never been more miserable. She dreaded what a future without Marcus held and wondered what she should do with her life.
Once more, the people moved from the chapel to the bailey and into the keep. Jessimond found herself swept up in the crowd as everyone journeyed to the feast awaiting them in the great hall. She went to take her place on the dais with the other family members. Lora and Richmond sat in the center. Before Jessimond could take a seat, the smell of venison assaulted her nose. Her stomach lurched uncomfortably and she had to swallow hard to keep the bile from coming up.
Without warning, she felt as if she’d been punched in the gut. A sudden clarity descended upon her. With that understanding came fear.
She was with child.
Chapter 26
September, 1396
Marcus pulled on the reins and brought Storm to a halt. He stared at the castle in the distance.
Kinwick. Where Jess lived.
He closed his eyes and could see her image even now. The porcelain skin and thick, golden blond hair. Her tiny waist and enticing curves. Those large, amethyst eyes that he could get lost in. A lump formed i
n his throat.
It had been a year since he’d seen her. Touched her. Tasted her. A year of abject misery—though he hadn’t let anyone see it. Marcus had been what he hoped was the most industrious baron Hartefield had ever known. He knew every tenant and servant by name. Trained daily with his soldiers. Kept meticulous records of the harvest and livestock. Played with Livia and told her stories as he put her to bed each night, making sure she knew she was well loved.
Then spent his sleepless nights thinking of Jess and how much he’d hurt her. Would she take him back—now that he was free?
He would soon find out.
Marcus opened his eyes and tamped down the fear that raced through him. What if she refused to come with him? Or the earl said Jess must remain at Kinwick?
Then what?
He couldn’t think of any outcome other than one which consisted of Jess in his arms within the next hour. Marcus would tell her over and over how much he still loved her between passionate kisses. He sent another silent prayer to the Virgin, pleading for Her intercession. Though he’d never been much for prayers, Marcus had kept up a constant conversation with the Holy Mother for days, hoping she would take pity on him.
Nudging Storm’s flanks, the horse continued on the last league of their journey. He arrived at the gates of Kinwick after passing workers harvesting grain in the fields and identified himself, expressing his interest in speaking with the earl on urgent business. Granted entrance, he was directed to the stables, where he left Storm before starting out for the keep.
Marcus crossed the bailey and paused a moment when he saw a familiar couple at a well. Peter glistened with the sweat of hard labor as Agatha, her belly swollen with a coming child, held the ladle to his lips. He approached them, uncertain of the reception he would receive.
Agatha spied him first and gasped, dropping the ladle. “Marcus! I mean, my lord.”
Peter wheeled to face Marcus, his hands bunching into fists. He took two steps forward and slammed one of them into Marcus’ nose. Marcus stumbled back from the powerful blow but did nothing to defend himself.
