Her Bastard Bridegroom

by Alice Coldbreath

  “You and me both, ma’am! I mean, milady,” agreed her maid grimly. “We’ll soon let them know what’s what!”

  XX

  Mason was not surprised when he reached their quarters to find his brother Roland’s room empty. Cowardly young cur, he thought savagely. He was surprised to find how bleak his chambers looked with their bare stone and threadbare Vawdrey standard hanging in the corner. He’d never been much of a one for home comforts, but he hadn’t realized how impersonal a space it was. His medals hung on the mount that had been presented to him by King Wymer and was the only decoration about the place. He was almost glad he had not been able to bring Linnet here. There was little to cheer or welcome her into their family.

  Their father’s aged servant Meldon bought them water for washing and bread and cheese for a late supper. Oswald disappeared almost immediately into his own room, closing the door after a murmured ‘goodnight’. Their father had not accompanied them back but had set off down another corridor, perhaps in search of his youngest son. Mason didn’t care. He stripped down and washed and then threw himself on his bed to sleep. But sleep did not come. Instead he lay there. Thinking about Linnet. Godsdamnit. His brain would not allow him to contemplate what he would do if their marriage was not upheld. Every time his thoughts started down that path, they were abruptly cut off by a flash of anger. At least on the past two nights he had been able to sleep in the same bed as her. It felt strange, unnatural not having her there curled into his side. He flung his arm over his head and wondered why it bothered him so much. He had been married little more than a month and a half! He rolled onto his side and sighed heavily. She had faults, he reminded himself. Not the least her topics of conversation when he was fully satiated. He frowned. The gods alone knew why Linnet thought that was the perfect time to bring up other men!

  He sat up with a frustrated groan. Scrubbing his face with his hand he rolled out of bed and made his way back out into their private sitting room where Meldon had, had their trunks delivered. He flung open his own and retrieved a large wad of illustrated pages he had tucked into the corner. The Tales of Sir Maurency of Jorde, illustrated by Lady Linnet Cadwallader. Making his way over to the fireplace he added a few more logs, banking it up and then settled back in a seat to read.

  And what he read horrified him. All of Linnet’s hopes and dreams wrapped up in an insipid tale of chivalry and romance. It was horrific! Trite, unrealistic and idealized. He could not recognize a single value that he shared with the saintly Sir Maurency. This was what she had spent a decade dreaming about in her tower? Being rescued by some paragon of virtue? And instead she had got him. The Despoiler of Demoyne. Wymer’s most savage hound of war. He felt a coldness spread in the pit of his stomach. Sir Maurency would probably letter her chatter about whatever the fuck she wanted after he had ploughed her. No, that wasn’t true. He wouldn’t have defiled that sweet little virgin in the first damn place! He bit his knuckle and glared at the golden-haired knight with his simpering expression of virtue. This was what Linnet wanted? Well, fuck.

  XXI

  Linnet first stirred when Gertie was climbing out of the bed at first light.

  “Go back to sleep,” her maid whispered. “’Tis only early.”

  “Where are you going?” blinked Linnet rubbing her eyes.

  “To have a nose round the servant’s quarters and get any gossip about the Doverdales,” she hissed back, giving her mistress a wink.

  Linnet turned over making Cuthbert grumble and kick out at her shin. He had wriggled around like a monkey in his sleep and had rambling, half-snatched conversations with himself. Linnet heartily pitied whoever his usual bedfellow was! She shuffled back into Gertie’s vacant warm spot and sighed as her eyelids drooped down. She could hear shuffling and bumping already which meant the castle was awakening. She felt a pang for her own home. What would everyone be doing there now? Her thoughts drifted to Mason. He was somewhere nearby at least, though she knew not where. When next her eyes drifted open, Gertie was pouring hot water from a jug into the bowl for her to wash. Cuthbert was nowhere in sight but his pile of clothes were missing from the chair and so she guessed he was up and about. Linnet yawned and stretched. “You found your way then,” she commented as she dropped her feet over the side of the bed.

  “Oh-hoh, yes,” huffed Gertie plunging a washing cloth into the bowl. “You can trust a servant to find the lay of the land.”

  Linnet joined her and was passed some leaves of soap which smelt of rose petals. “Mmm, these are lovely, Gertie.”

  “Only the best for the Doverdales,” sniffed Gertie who was clearly bursting with news. Before Linnet could question her further, her maid started combing her hair. “Wash up milady,” she urged her. “They’ll be expecting you to join them at breakfast.”

  “They?” asked Linnet, rubbing the soap over her wet hands and face.

  “Lady Doverdale and her daughter Lady Martindale.”

  “Oh, of course.” After a hurried wash and brush up, Gertie hurried about selecting her yellow stockings and her copper patterned houppelande dress which was Linnet’s least favorite. She hadn’t realized they had bought it and pulled a face. Still, if she wanted to hear Gertie’s news she did not have time to change it. Instead the two of them pulled together and she was soon dressed and presentable with a simple headband holding her linen veil in place over her hair which was braided and pinned at the nape of her neck. Mason may not like veils, but to the world at large not wearing one meant you were unmarried. She did not want anyone to get that impression here.

  “Lady Doverdale is the dowager Countess of Doverdale,” explained Gertie. “Her husband the Earl of Doverdale died fifteen years ago and was an advisor to the old King. Their family is still influential at court so she has been made your guardian while the appeal is considered by the King. Lady Jevons is spitting mad about it as she wanted you to be placed as Sir Jevons’ ward under their protection straight away.”

  Linnet felt a lurch of unease and touched Mason’s ring for reassurance. “Oh dear,” she muttered. “Maybe I should have been politer to Lady Doverdale last night!”

  “Oh no miss!” Gertie corrected her. “According to the staff she’s a right old tartar and only respects those what stands up to her! If you had taken it meek like, she’d have ridden roughshod right over you for the next month.”

  “Month?”

  “That’s how long these appeals usually takes, apparently,” nodded Gertie wisely.

  “A month?” repeated Linnet in alarm. “Truly? I had no idea it would take that long!” Why, she had been married less than two months!

  “Yes miss, I mean milady.”

  “What else?”

  “Well,” said Gertie kneeling down to fasten Linnet’s shoes. “The court is buzzing, absolutely buzzing about the scandal. How Sir Roland’s sided with the Jevons’ against his own kin saying he was done out of your dowry.”

  Linnet pressed her lips together in displeasure. That scoundrel Roland!

  “And – begging your pardon milady – but I’m only repeating the gossip..”

  “Yes, never mind that,” Linnet assured her.

  Gertie bit her lip. “The rumor was – for years apparently - that you were hideously ugly milady, like a toad in a dress…”

  Linnet gasped.

  Gertie rushed on “But now the Jevons’ have been telling everyone that you’re on death’s door and terribly frail and a puff of wind could carry you off… So now everyone feels sorry for you and thinks it’s a shame you’ve been treated so unhandsomely like.”

  Linnet’s fingers tapped against the arm of the chair in irritation. She swallowed the words that flew to her lips, not wanting to interrupt Gertie’s flow.

  “They said as how Roland understood you’d have to be treated gentle-like and that Mason is a great hulking brute of a husband who beats you and treats you cruelly so as you’re terrified of him…”

  “What nonsense,” burst out Linnet.

 
; Gertie sucked in a breath. “I know miss,” her eyes shone with excitement. “You should have seen how excited they all were when I told them whose maid I was! Why, I was treated like a queen! Chair by the fire, best cut of bacon, the works!”

  “Well, that’s very nice Gertie,” said Linnet, her head spinning. Toad in a dress, indeed! “But…”

  The door opened and Cuthbert came dancing in his mouth full of sugar biscuit. “The Doverdales are awaiting breakfast on you, milady,” he said brushing the crumbs off his tunic.

  “Have you been down to the kitchens too?” asked Linnet with misgiving.

  A beatific smile spread across Cuthbert’s face. “They’m ever so nice down there, milady. Only fancy, they made me tell them that tale of you going to The Bear three times in a row…”

  Linnet groaned. The rumors about her at court were only going to get more lurid at this rate!

  Breakfast with Lady Doverdale was a strained affair. Her hostess was starchy and disapproving and her daughter Lady Martindale was like a terrified little mouse too meek to even lift her eyes from her plate. They were served pandemain bread and three fish dishes. None of the foods which Linnet favored were brought to table so she was forced to eat white bread and fruit and some watered down wine. She did not like to ask for milk or oats in case this was considered invalid’s fare.

  “When do I get my audience with the King?” asked Linnet as the table was cleared away by their servants. Lady Martindale let out a frightened squeak as her mother sucked in her cheeks.

  “If you are granted an audience with the King,” answered Lady Doverdale with gravity. “It will only be after he has weighed up all the facts of the case from every angle.”

  Linnet placed her napkin carefully on the table before her. “But how, pray, is he to do that Lady Doverdale?” she asked calmly. “When he is not in possession of any of them?”

  Her hostess gazed at her sternly. “Are you so unfilial as to suggest your aunt and uncle are not best placed to represent you to the King?” she asked in an awful voice.

  “Yes, quite frankly I am,” answered Linnet. “My aunt and uncle have abused their position as my trustees for years.”

  Lady Doverdale thin lips flattened. She glanced speakingly toward the servants. “You have led a very sheltered life, Lady Linnet and so are probably not aware how very serious an allegation that is to make. I would caution you to choose your words wisely at court. Things can be misconstrued and words treated as very dangerous weapons.”

  “My life has not been so sheltered as you seem to think,” answered Linnet who had no intention of allowing herself to be brow-beaten or cowed. Take that back to the servant’s quarters, she thought catching the eye of a wide-eyed maid. “And if you think I am unaware of the grossly inaccurate rumors circulating around court about me for years you are quite wrong!” She could feel two bright spots of color had appeared in her cheeks and twisted her skirts in her fingers beneath the table.

  Lady Doverdale grudgingly inclined her head in acknowledgement of this. “Life at court is rife with rumor,” she said damningly. “It is a blight which affects us all.”

  Linnet remembered Mason speaking of it once, although he referred to it as ‘spreading horse-shit’ if memory served. “Yes, so my husband has told me,” she answered unthinkingly.

  “Sir Mason has discussed court life with you?” asked Lady Doverdale sounding startled.

  Not willingly, thought Linnet wryly, but she nodded her head anyway. “We are husband and wife, Lady Doverdale,” she said loftily. “Naturally, my husband discusses all aspects of his life with me.”

  Lady Doverdale looked skeptical but kept her tongue.

  “I am accustomed to taking exercise after breaking my fast,” Linnet commented as Lady Doverdale and her daughter led her toward the sitting area by the fire where several embroidery frames were set out. She was hanged if she was going to sit playing at needle-work this morning as though nothing out of the ordinary was going on, when her marriage was in danger of being dissolved!

  “Indeed? I had thought some quiet occupation might be better suited for you,” frowned Lady Doverdale. “In view of your delicate health.”

  Linnet drew herself up to stand at her tallest height, which admittedly was not very tall. “My health is far from delicate, I assure you. I take daily exercise, ride and manage my household accounts. I do not, I repeat do not live the retired life of a semi-invalid.”

  Lady Doverdale clicked her tongue. “Very well,” she said clapping her hands so a servant sprang forward. “We will go for a walk in the long avenue. Fetch forth our cloaks.”

  Linnet considered slipping a note to Cuthbert to take to Mason to ask him to meet her there, but in the end decided against it. After all, she little knew his movements this morn. ‘Twas possible he was about important business.

  XXII

  Mason stared across the table at Lord Schaeffer who shuffled his papers and coughed awkwardly.

  “Feel awkward asking you these things, m’boy,” the older man said regretfully. “But the King’s orders, you understand. Got to do my duty for king and country, same as you.”

  With great effort Mason managed not to point out that his duty had involved a series of bloody battlefields, not asking some poor bastard awkward questions about his marital relations!

  He cleared his throat. “Of course,” he answered shortly. “Let’s get on with it, shall we?”

  Glancing over at the scribe, he felt a tightening of foreboding in his gut.

  “In the event of the marriage being deemed canonically invalid, a period of some three months would be necessary before re-marriage to ensure the female were not expecting any issue from the union.” Lord Schaeffer paused and looked over the top of the papers at Mason questioningly. “What I am asking, Sir Mason, is would that precaution be entirely necessary in this instance?”

  Mason narrowed his eyes, leaning forward in his chair. “There will be no question of invalidity, canonical or otherwise. And. There. Will. Be. No. Re-marriage.”

  Lord Schaeffer’s eyes widened with alarm. He coughed. “Erm, what I am trying to ask, with the utmost delicacy is …”

  “I am well aware of what you’re asking me,” snapped Mason. “And I consider it to be a damned impertinence!”

  Lord Schaeffer turned pale.

  For Mason it was the beginning of a long and annoying morning and as he snapped and snarled his answers to the increasingly intrusive questions, he wondered what version of marital interrogation Linnet was going to receive. His gut twisted when he thought of her being mortified by strangers. “When do I get to see the King?” he asked at the end of it.

  Lord Schaeffer flinched. “Don’t think he’s too keen to get dragged in at the early stages, m’boy. Damn awkward for him with you being so recently promoted.”

  Mason squeezed the arm of his chair imagining it was Roland’s neck.

  XXIII

  It was a pleasant walk in the long avenue which was lined with oak and beech trees. Lady Martindale had cried off with a slight cough, but Lady Doverdale was made of stronger-stuff and they kept a brisk pace. Linnet could not be unaware of the heads that swiveled and the excited whispers that followed them. She kept her chin high in the air and marched determined to keep a-pace with her companion.

  “How far a walk is it into town?” she asked in a loud, clear voice which she hoped would carry. “I do enjoy a nice long constitutional walk in the mornings.”

  “You will not be permitted off castle grounds at present, Lady Linnet,” her guardian pointed out dryly. “You are the king’s guest here and would require permission.”

  “And how does one apply for permission?” answered Linnet, not to be put off. “I should so like to visit on market day.”

  Lady Doverdale frowned. “Market day is extremely busy and chaotic, Lady Linnet. You would require a male escort for such a visit.”

  “Oh that’s fine,” she answered breezily. “I could simply ask my husband after
all!”

  There was a heavy silence and someone in the background tittered.

  Lady Doverdale cursed under her breath and Linnet looked up sharply to see an approaching gaggle of women. At the head of them, scarlet-cheeked and completely out of breath was her aunt, Lady Jevons. She must have run the whole way to head them off. Linnet felt a spurt of anger at the sight of her skinny aunt with her busy-body lady companions. Today she wore a very large head-dress with buns over both her ears and gold net holding them in place. Her dress was deep royal blue slashed with scarlet which had the unfortunate effect of matching her red face.

  “Niece!” she squawked. “What a surprise to see you here!” She looked around noting the on-lookers with satisfaction. “At last,” she puffed. “We are reunited. You poor, poor child!” She flung her arms out to embrace Linnet who smartly side-stepped her.

  “Aunt Millicent,” she said coolly. “Why, how out of breath you are! You should do more exercise. You look quite rubicund.”

  A spasm of annoyance showed on her aunt’s face, but she made a swift attempt to mask it. “What are you doing out of doors, you poor, misguided girl. You will surely suffer an inflammation of your lungs!”

  “Nonsense, aunt,” Linnet flatly contradicted her. “I enjoy regular exercise these days now I am no longer shut up in that tower all day long.” The crowd murmured as Lady Doverdale and her aunt exchanged deep curtsies.

  “Oh, Lady Doverdale,” twittered her aunt. “I do hope you are taking good care of my dear niece. Her uncle and I have been so worried! She has led a very sheltered life you know.”

  “So I’ve heard,” answered Lady Doverdale briskly.

  It occurred to Linnet that there was no love lost between the two which heartened her no end. “Not so sheltered now, thank you,” Linnet corrected her. “I’ve been thinking I should be presented, now I am finally at court.” In truth, it had only just this moment popped into her head, but it occurred to Linnet that if she could show as many people as possible that she was in good health it might aid her cause.