by Merry Farmer
“Oh, I beg to differ,” she hummed in a voice so low Jack wasn’t sure if he was supposed to hear it or not.
The road out of Derbywood had never seemed longer or more enclosed as they made their way out of the forest. Only this time it wasn’t the trees that unnerved Jack. Hail Madeline, full of grace, he kept repeating as the woman pressed her chest against his back and his mind counted the days since he’d last had a woman in his bed. He could stop before they were out of the woods for a quick tumble in the bushes. No one would know. Something told him the woman would be game. But no, he still had faith that someday soon he would zip down to Coventry and scoop Madeline out of the convent.
“Oy, what’s your name anyhow?” he chattered to keep his mind on the straight and narrow.
“Lydia,” the woman answered.
“And what’s your sister’s name? Maybe I know her. It’s not Alice, is it?”
“Alice?” Lydia laughed, “Oh no. It was Constance.”
“Constance,” Jack repeated. “What’s she do at Kedleridge?”
“Nothing.” Her shrug rubbed him in all the right wrong ways. “She’s dead now.”
“Oh. Sorry about that.” He squirmed in his saddle. They turned a corner and a patch of sunlight where the road left the forest beckoned to him. He nudged his horse to walk faster.
“Actually, my lord, I’ve come to see if I might take her place in your household.”
The itch of temptation was met by the uncertainty of how one went about hiring or replacing staff. “Uh, yeah, maybe you could. What’d your sister do?”
“Many things, my lord,” she hummed, “Many things.”
Madeline spun in front of the mirror Aubrey had brought into her room, puzzling over the way her figure looked in the green velvet kirtle Joanna had found for her. She smoothed her hands over the soft fabric at her sides and over her hips.
“It’s just so odd,” she frowned.
Aubrey laughed. “How can it possibly be odd to look like a woman?”
“I never have before,” Madeline shrugged in reply. “Hassocks are meant to cover earthly things so that the mind and heart can focus on God.” She turned the other way, frowning at the rise of her breasts and pulling the under-dress higher to conceal more.
“Stop fussing.” Aubrey stood from the bed and came over to swat her hands. “You look beautiful.”
“Hardly.” She patted the netting over her cropped hair. It didn’t do much to hide the boyish cut.
“Nonsense,” Aubrey huffed and took Madeline’s hand. “You’re beautiful and I am quite sure at least one young man I know will think so too.”
Madeline’s cheeks flushed and a quiver shot through her gut to her toes. “You said that Jack was at the castle?” She let Aubrey lead her out the door and down the stairs.
“He … he had an errand to run. But I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”
The castle was buzzing with activity, even on the top floors of the High Tower. As Aubrey had explained, nobles had come from miles around to bend Crispin’s ear now that he was Earl of Derby, especially since the emissary from London was there. The castle was overstuffed with lords and ladies in rich brocades and velvets, walking the halls with their heads held high, ordering the castle’s servants this way and that. Madeline was certain she looked more like a servant than the grand ladies they passed even in the velvet.
“I can’t stand a one of them,” Aubrey whispered to her when they reached the main hall and cut towards the castle’s huge front door. A handsome middle-aged woman in gold brocade met Aubrey’s eyes with an obsequious smile that faded to a sneer as soon as Aubrey smiled in return and looked away. “When they’re not trying to worm their way into our good favor they’re complaining about us behind our backs.”
The other half of Aubrey’s ‘us’ strode around the corner, spotted them, and changed his path to meet them. Madeline stepped back and half hid behind Aubrey. It didn’t matter how much her friend argued otherwise, Sir Crispin was still one of the most frightening men she’d ever known.
“Aubrey.” He reached her and grasped her hand, stealing a quick kiss with a frown. “Lady Madeline.” He nodded to her. “I heard you’d arrived.”
Fear closed her throat and she could only nod back.
“What’s that look for?”
At first Madeline thought Aubrey was talking to her, but when she glanced up to answer Crispin beat her to it.
“Word of the king’s ransom has been leaked,” he glowered. “I’ve had no fewer than five lords approach me to complain about it already and I haven’t even begun to contemplate methods of raising the money yet.”
“Well does anyone have any good suggestions?”
“No,” he sighed. “They’re more concerned with telling me I don’t have a right to take what’s theirs.”
“Surely they want to see King Richard freed.” Crispin sent her a dark look that might have been intended as a grin. “You’re going to have to call a council of nobles, you know,” she went on.
Crispin sighed. “I know. But whether they’ll support-”
“Sir Crispin!” a booming voice called across the hall.
Madeline’s heart trembled into her knees. She knew the voice. It came from the only man who frightened her more than Crispin.
“Matlock.” Crispin nodded as her father strode across the hall towards them. The castle’s servants and even the nobles rushed out of his way. Crispin stood straighter, pale skin contrasting with his black tunic. “I had not heard that you had arrived at the castle.”
“I came just now.” Her father wasn’t as tall as Crispin, but he carried himself with so much majesty that he seemed larger than life. He always had. “And not a moment too soon.” He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes.
“I take it you’ve heard about the king’s ransom.” Crispin faced the issue head-on.
“I have. What do you plan to do about it?”
“I plan to raise the money.”
The air between the two men bristled. Aubrey glanced between them, her face flushed and eyes bright. Madeline could only stare at her father, frozen in fear.
“How?” he challenged Crispin. “I doubt even Buxton hoarded a sum like that. How much do you plan to wring from the rest of us?”
“I don’t know yet, Lord Stephen.” Crispin showed no intimidation and then added, “I would appreciate your counsel on the matter,” before her father could try to cow him.
“I’m sure you would,” Matlock seethed. Madeline knew the look in his eyes too well. He had no patience for anyone or anything that did not bow to his authority.
“There is a banquet tonight,” Crispin changed the subject. “Your attendance would be most welcome.”
Matlock met his eyes and held them, a battle of wills. Finally he nodded and turned to go.
Madeline was halfway through letting out a sigh of relief when his glance fell on her. All color drained from her face as the light of recognition dawned in his eyes.
“What are you doing here?” Those eyes held no welcome, no love.
“Father.” Her voice was half a wisp of sound. “I… I….”
“I specifically wrote that you were not to leave the Abbey of St. Mary’s for any reason.”
Madeline cowered as he stepped towards her, lowering her head in a flinch as if he would strike her. She opened her mouth but no words came out.
“Is this your doing?” Matlock rounded on Aubrey.
Aubrey wavered but managed to pull herself up to say, “Madeline escaped of her own free will.”
“Escaped? You will go back at once!” Matlock ordered, pointing a finger at her.
“But… I….” She withered as if his finger was a dagger stabbing her.
“You will see to it that she is returned to the convent at once,” he directed his demand at Aubrey then spun on his heel and marched away.
Madeline watched him, eyes wide, stomach swimming with sick knots.
Aubrey huffed. “Not even a
hello! He didn’t even call you by name! Some father he is!”
“Maybe it’s best if I just go,” Madeline’s voice shook as all energy left her.
“I’ll leave you to this,” Crispin muttered before nodding at his wife and Madeline and fleeing the scene.
Aubrey crossed her arms and shook her head at him before turning back to Madeline. “You are not going anywhere.” Her command was as sure as Matlock’s had been.
“Aubrey, it’s not a good idea to cross him. You don’t know what he’s like.” She could hardly raise her voice above a whisper.
“If my father ever spoke to me like that….” Aubrey grabbed Madeline’s hand and yanked her forward towards the door and out into the afternoon sunshine. “Of course my father never would have spoken to me like that. But if Crispin ever even so much as thought of-”
Madeline stopped listening to her friend’s rant. She froze at the top of the stairs, staring down into the courtyard, eyes wide. There, riding through the front gates astride a chestnut stallion, red hair blazing in the sun, was Jack. Her heart pounded to her throat and she flushed from pale to bright pink. He was even more handsome than she remembered. The fine tunic he wore sat well on his broad shoulders. His eyes flashed with mirth as he nodded up to Aubrey. He smiled as he turned to say something to the woman who was riding on the back of his horse.
Her smile and heart dropped.
The woman riding behind him wore her thick blonde hair loose around her shoulders. Her laughter lilted across the courtyard. She held Jack around the waist and only let go after she spoke something close to his ear. Jack smiled and swung his leg around to dismount. He turned and reached for the woman, who slipped easily into his arms. There was no mistaking her feminine figure. Jack made sure she had her footing before stepping back.
“Oh.” Madeline let out a shaky sigh, backing towards the castle door. “I didn’t know. I … I assumed he would … he would wait for me. I should have.…” She swallowed, unable to go on, unable to look away.
“Who the hell is that?” Aubrey planted her hands on her hips and frowned at the woman.
A page dashed out from the stables to take Jack’s horse and the gray horse he had been leading. Jack stepped aside to have a word with him. The woman turned to glance up the castle’s long front steps at them. She was the most beautiful woman Madeline had ever seen. The sunlight only made her more radiant. Madeline raised a hand to pat her own chopped and covered hair.
“I should go.” She turned and scurried into the castle. She was a fool to think that just because her heart’s every waking moment had been filled with Jack that he would feel the same about her.
“Madeline, wait!” Aubrey chased after her, catching up halfway through the main hall.
“Let me go, Aubrey.” She tried to shake out of her friend’s grasp when Aubrey grabbed her wrist.
“I swear to you, Madeline, I have no idea who that woman is. I’ve never seen her before now.”
“I don’t know that that matters,” she gulped, eyes darting back to the door. “Jack obviously knows her.”
She tried to break for the stairs but Aubrey continued to hold her. “Jack knows a lot of people,” she argued.
“Oh?” Her heart erupted into pure misery as she misunderstood.
“Yes. I mean, no! Not like that! He has a lot of duties and responsibilities now.”
“I see,” she nodded. But she didn’t see. She pulled out of Aubrey’s grasp and marched for the stairs.
“Madeline!” Aubrey caught up to her. “You have to at least say hello to him!”
“I don’t want to bother him,” she sighed and added, “Maybe I never should have left the convent.”
“Oh good grief!” The force of Aubrey’s frustration stopped her. She turned towards her friend with a sigh, eyes still downcast. “Alright.” Aubrey threw up her hands, “I’ll admit this was a terrible way to start things. Your father, that woman, whoever she is. Not the best homecoming.” Madeline was too miserable to answer. “So let’s try this again.” She raised her eyes to her friend’s. “Let’s go back upstairs and have a snack sent up. I’ll fetch Joanna and we’ll see what we can do to make you look even more fantastic and irresistible for the feast tonight.”
“I’ll never be as beautiful as that woman,” she moaned, gesturing towards the door.
“That woman,” Aubrey scowled, “looks like a cheap strumpet to me.”
“Jack didn’t seem to think so.”
“Yes, well, men are easily distracted by shiny baubles. But the good ones know true gold when they see it. Now come on.” She hooked her arm through Madeline’s and whisked her off up the stairs.
Madeline glanced over her shoulder at the castle door one last time feeling like anything but true gold.
Lydia watched the two women at the top of the stairs out of the corner of her eye as Jack had a word with the page about her horse. If what she had heard was right the one in black and silver was the Countess of Derby. Jack had smiled up to her as if they were friends.
She turned her back to Jack as if to look around the courtyard then snuck the folded letter out of her pocket. It had been tucked in Jack’s belt. He hadn’t noticed when she relieved him of it. She flicked open the seal and scanned the letter. Most of it was ridiculous drivel about love and devotion. She narrowed her eyes. It was signed ‘Madeline’.
So, Jack had a sweetheart. It must be that mouse of a woman who had been at the top of the stairs with the countess. The woman had turned colors when she saw him. She skimmed through the letter again, looking for anything that could give her a leg up. Jack didn’t know that his sweetheart was at the castle but he would soon. She had to act fast.
“Oy! That’s all taken care of now.” Jack’s voice startled her into refolding the letter and shoving it back in her pocket.
She turned to him with a broad smile. “You’re too kind to me, my lord.” She lowered her lashes and bit her lip.
His eyes shot straight to her mouth. Perfect. Sweetheart or not, Lord John was game.
“Right.” He cleared his throat, fighting not to be tempted. “Let’s figure out what to do with you.”
“Let me stay with you, my lord.” She surged forward and grabbed his arm, leaning into him chest first. “You have been so kind to me and I came here to serve you.”
“Uh, I… um, I don’t think it’s lords that have ladies-in-waiting?” He flinched away but she kept hold of him, pretending to be unaware of how close she was.
“But there are so many things I can do for you, my lord.” If he was this uncomfortable now she could bag him in no time, Madeline or no Madeline.
He shifted in place, staring at her arm and then around the courtyard as if looking for help. She turned pleading eyes up to him. “Oy, first things first. Let’s see about getting’ you a room in one of the inns out-”
“Oh no, my lord!” she gasped and hugged his arm close, painting her face with terror. He raised an eyebrow at her. “I’m scared.”
“Scared?” He broke into a wide grin. She’d played her cards wrong. “What for?”
She thought fast. “Those outlaws in the forest. They … they did terrible things to me. What if they come looking for me?”
His smile vanished to a hard scowl as he looked out through the gate at the city. Yes, she’d guessed right. There was no love lost between Lord John and Ethan. She could use that.
“I guess we got room in the castle,” Jack sighed. “I’ll set you up nice there.” He’d made some sort of decision and started for the steps leading up to the front door. She hung on his arm so he was forced to escort her like a lady instead of shooing her off like a servant. It was a step in the right direction. “Oy!” he brightened, “There’s this banquet thing tonight. Wanna come?”
“Me?”
“Only, it’s the sort of thing that nobs go to. But if we dress you up no one would know the difference, right?”
“I supposed not,” she beamed back at him. Her luck was en
dless today.
“We’ll do it then.”
At this rate she would have everything she’d ever wanted in no time.
Chapter Four
Jack stood outside of the room that had been given to Lydia scratching his ginger head and rocking on the balls of his feet. “Just one more minute!” he heard her muffled voice call from inside.
“Right! Take your time!” he answered. He blew out a breath. He’d been standing there for ten minutes at least. His feet were beginning to throb. At least they were the only thing throbbing at the moment.
He walked over to the wall and leaned against it, sighing and biting the rough edge of one of his nails, trying to decide if the entire day was a waste or not.
Ethan had gotten away scot-free. He scowled and kicked the floor. Crispin never should have let that lot go. They’d done nothing but cause trouble. That very afternoon, after he’d gotten Lydia sorted, he’d been accosted by two nobs who made his ears bleed complaining about how outlaws had robbed them on the way to the castle. The way they’d spoken to him you would’ve thought he held the knife to their throat personally. Bloody wankers. All of them.
He was pulled out of his thoughts and snapped straight when the door opened and Lydia stepped into the hall. One look at her and he had to grasp his rosary to keep from falling over. The kirtle she wore was simple, but the way she wore it made his skin hot. The neckline was cut far lower than it should have been, and she had what it took to wear it well. Her soft honey-blonde hair fell loose over milky shoulders. She lowered her eyes until her long lashes spread across her soft cheeks. Her lips were a tantalizing red.
“Well look at you!” he croaked and cleared his throat.
Lydia’s cat-like grin shifted to a worried frown. “Do I look pretty?” She turned to the side and slid her hands over the tight kirtle. “Will they think I’m a lady?”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” he muttered to himself. He swallowed and grinned in spite of his odd urge to run. “You are one beautiful woman, Lydia.” He held out his arm to her. “They’ll love you.”
