“Where is he bound?”
Murdo replied with his usual insightful wisdom. “Your lady has friends in high places. ‘Tis wise for a solitary woman to counsel with those she trusts.” He snapped his fingers at one of our men who instantly ran to his side. ‘Follow yon fellow and do your utmost to seek his purpose.”
He lowered his voice as our man ran to the stables. “Don’t sleep with your back to any woman until you know her mind.” His hand slapped my shoulder hard as he bellowed with laughter. “You should see the look on your face, Sir Giles.”
I returned his laugh but secretly wondered if there wasn’t a grain of truth in his jest. My cousins had warred with one another for a generation and no one truly believed it had ended. Henry’s throne, far from secure, lay open to many pretenders and, mayhap, even he did not sleep with his back to Elizabeth of York. Our lovely queen, heavy with his child, may sit by her husband’s side contemplating his demise, eager to restore the days of her father’s Yorkist court.
****
Late into the night the man returned to Murdo’s side, and after garbled whispers they approached me. A package of letters slid into my hand and I paused, dampened by the necessity of our connivance. Three letters in all, one for the queen, one to the Scottish court and one to a secret recipient in London, burned a hole in my pocket along with my fertile imagination until daybreak when I chanced to read them alone.
The letter to the queen, though merely a formality, held an underlying tone of desperation. The letter to the Scots barely disguised hopes of escape. But the third letter roused my suspicion. A jumble of words and nonsensical rhymes revealed a connection with a devious mind in London.
I stored the letters in my locked traveling chest under Murdo’s keen eye. An ever-faithful watchdog to me and my family, I trusted his keeping.
“Close the house to anyone seeking entry and allow no one to leave without my permission.” I thought to take control of the plots brewing around me and if the Lady had a mind to deceive me then Langley Manor would become her prison. I held no anger toward her. Loyal kin worked for their family to circumvent an ill wind. No fault of hers that Henry ruled the kingdom and not her York cousins.
“Bad news?” Murdo read my mood.
“She treads a dangerous path if this reaches the ear of the king.”
“The sooner you are wedded and bedded the better.”
“Not such an easy task with an unwilling woman.”
“You’ve been spoiled, lad. Most men learn to sweeten a woman early in life. Wenches rarely flock to a bed as easily as yours. It takes the skill and diplomacy of a courtier to find kind words and tender manners in response to a woman’s reproaches.” We paused in our morning inspection of the courtyard. “If you want her as a willing wife, Sir Giles, then win her favor.”
He suggested the impossible but I recognized good advice. At the sound of footsteps he paused, and I looked in the direction of his interest. A woman walked toward us, dressed in a heavy cloak, resembling a great black crow, but the breath flew out of my chest and my eyes riveted to her face.
Lady Blanche Langley stepped through the centre of the courtyard as men moved aside with an accommodating speed. I heard ripples of appreciation at her beauty and marveled at the golden tresses curling out from the fur-lined hood covering her noble brow. For a brief moment I imagined her delighted at my presence and waited expectantly for her to speak before I remembered it was I who held the title of master of the household. Her brow creased in an endearing way.
Murdo’s advice rose fresh in my mind. I signaled for my men to move away. “May I be of service, Lady Langley?”
“You may, Lord Somerset. I wish to send a letter to my kin informing them of the royal order that I must marry. I have it here.” Her soft brown eyes twinkled as she played me for a fool.
“As you wish.” I stared into the face of the woman I must soon marry—a foolish boy gawking over his first love. Her shoulders relaxed and my soon-to-be wife rewarded me with a smile, revealing flawless teeth.
“I regret my distress last evening. Please understand my harshness is not directed at you, but at my situation.”
“I pray to ease your distress and accommodate your wishes within my power.” I withheld the knowledge that her messenger roamed the countryside without a horse or a package of letters to deliver.
She nodded, turning to leave but as though in afterthought she stopped. “May I have your assurance that all communication from my kin will be delivered to my person.”
I understood her purpose. “You will be informed immediately.” The reply from the spymaster would arrive disguised as a family letter, filled with false words and hidden messages. No letters must pass into her hand unread, and my vigilance must increase tenfold.
“In turn may I request your company tonight, Lady Langley?” A delicate blush rose to her cheeks.
“Tonight?”
“In the great hall, at dinner.” My mind conjured her wearing a yellow dress, loose hair flowing around her shoulders like an untouched maid. Undiscovered joy lay beneath her stark cloak and my body responded to the promise of her allure.
Her mouth twitched in distaste but she accepted with a nod. If she thought me easily manipulated then so be it. I had everything to lose and she, everything to gain, if our union failed.
That evening I dressed in my best available clothing knowing I lacked, but Murdo assured me I made a fine impression.
My lady eyed me politely as I took my place next to her at the high table. I met the keen stare of her household and freeholders. They deferred to my position and I knew them to be farmers not fighters. The hall, large and well lit with torches this evening exceeded my expectations. Rich wood paneling, adorned with portraits of her ancestors, lined the room and ceremonial banners and weaponry filled the spaces in between. It proclaimed wealth and position to the guests of Langley, and intimidated potential aggressors. It was mine, all of it, and I marveled at the fortunes of a man when the tides turned and one king fell on the battlefield only to have another pick up the crown and conquer a nation.
“Ale, milord?” A serving wench filled my cup, her eyes holding an invitation. I stared past her to glimpse my quarry lifting a cup of ale in welcome, encouraging her house to do the same. Lady Blanche wore a modest kirtle of dark green, with a high neck and sleeves reaching her fingertips. I noticed the local priest sitting at the end of our table.
“Father, I require your services soon.” My lady’s back stiffened. “To marry my humble person to Lady Blanche, on the king’s order.”
“The dispensation!” she whispered.
The priest nodded in agreement. I reached for the lady’s hand, every part of my body alive with anticipation.
“We await the authority from His Holiness the Pope, but it comes soon.” A murmur ran around the room as talk of our nuptials spread. My intended could hardly complain at my eagerness to share our happiness.
“You’re not the first to talk of a marriage to the fair lady of Langley,” cackled an old man. “She’s buried three of ‘em and married none of ‘em.” A smile reached my lips but the amusement on Lady Blanche’s face caught me off guard. If she longed for my demise, I planned to thwart her hopes.
“We’ll have no talk of what’s past. A new age is beginning—a Tudor age. Henry and Elizabeth unite York and Lancaster, and your sweet mistress and I join as man and wife to end past bitterness.”
The guests sat in silence at my forthright speech. Murdo nodded agreeably, encouraging my men to add their approval. All eyes turned to Lady Blanche, curious for her response. She raised her cup and took a tiny sip. The cup passed to me and I drank the remainder in one gulp, devouring her wine as the men of Lancaster now devoured a weakened house of York.
I escorted the lady to her chamber door, eager to enter but my chances fared low. She bade me goodnight and threw me a chilled look expecting me to wither. As I took her in my arms my heart raced at the softness of her body and the wondrou
s smell of her clean skin and hair.
“I bid you a goodnight, mistress of Langley.” The span of my hand captured her small waist, and the sight of her rising bodice as she endured the moment drove my desire beyond good reason. I held her against me, enjoying the closeness even if she did not.
“Goodnight,” she replied curtly. Her door closed and for the moment she remained within her rights to refuse me entry, but not for long I vowed. Not for long!
****
Five days later we were married in the morning by the priest. The witnesses, Murdo, Gerda, the head steward of Langley, along with two of my best men stood by us. Every inch a noblewoman in a gown of dark silk, embroidered in relief with white roses, Blanche stood graceful and demure. Anxiously I repeated my vows, staring into the face of a woman I had planned to tolerate, and now ached to bed and make mine. She avoided my gaze, repeating the words slowly, perhaps hoping to be interrupted with news to delay the wedding. None came. The vows were sealed with a chaste kiss on her dainty hand and I concealed the joy of my victory.
I ruled Somerset, I ruled Langley and I ruled its mistress. Fool I was not; I gently guided my wife to the great hall and gifted her with quality cloth and good wine. She accepted with nary a glance in my direction but it mattered not. She would lie in my bed tonight accepting my advances, albeit in quiet resignation. The house feasted alongside us, swept up in our joy and happiness—or at least mine. Milady sat quietly smug, nodding with serenity as the locals and my men sang our praises.
I waited in controlled anticipation, envisioning the coming night and the delights it promised. Men openly congratulated me. I declined further drink, thinking it foolhardy to indulge on the one night that mattered most to a bride. The time dragged on but my good lady wife kept the household in idle chatter.
“The hour is late Sir Giles,” Murdo keenly noted and I silently thanked him.
The hall went quiet. “If you please, my lord, I should like to retire.” Blanche’s voice filled my ears with music. My experience in the matter of readying a bride for bedding lacked, but Murdo, as always, knew the proper practice.
“His lordship will await his bride in the master’s chamber.” I stood up and kissed her, this time on the cheek. The crowd rumbled in approval. As they dispersed to find their own bed for the night my men mingled with the wenches testing their luck. Many a man hoped to plow a fresh furrow tonight while spirits rode high.
I washed and changed into a white shirt and a pair of clean breeches to impress my highborn lady and waited an hour before sending Murdo to inquire after my wife’s progress. He returned with the stern-faced matron, Gerda.
“My lady is indisposed.”
“Indisposed?” My temper threatened to rise at my wife’s defiance. “Explain.”
“‘Tis women’s business.” The matron jutted her wiry chin.
“Is that so?”
Murdo shifted and his head shook from side-to-side. I heeded the warning.
“Return to your mistress with my well-wishes. Inform me of her health tomorrow. Good night, madam.”
The crow retreated into the hall and I waited until she moved out of earshot before I rounded on Murdo.
“She’s a damned liar.”
He chuckled. “Not the first woman to use her monthly course as an excuse, I’ll wager. Be patient. It can’t last forever, even if ‘tis true.”
“I suspect she believes a means of escape will arrive and she holds out until the last moment?”
“Your first siege, milord.” Murdo chuckled at his jest.
“Mayhap she’s aware her letters will never reach their destination.”
“Or that you prevent the reply ever reaching her fair hand.”
“And our next move?”
He cast an eye to the window. “Have her watched night and day, double the guards and place a curfew on the house.” I agreed. Murdo understood these matters and I trusted his judgment.
Chapter Three
~ Blanche ~
I paced the floor of my chamber for almost a week, and broke from pacing only to kneel at my personal shrine to Our Lady. The sign received on the eve of my wedding day proved my rightness. The good Lord answered my prayer and sent my courses to stay my new husband’s advances. I remained a virgin. A message must surely have come from London, or Scotland, to rescue me and secure my hopes of marrying a Yorkist.
Gerda had brought well-wishes from my husband, and daily he sent a message of concern for my health, but no word of a letter. Somerset posted guards around the house and everyday at sunset a curfew prevented movement within.
I sat and watched from my window, in seclusion, as his lordship took over my home. A friendly nod here and there to my staff and they cowed to his will. As a woman my hold was tenuous over those who once relied on my father and brother as the masters of Langley. I must submit to the king’s will soon, but not before I buried one last hope.
Gerda dressed me in my fine yellow dress and I left my hair long and loose. I took a risk but a nagging thought forced me into action. The hallway outside my chamber remained empty during the day and I tiptoed to the master chamber. I listened for the sound of voices but heard nothing. Once in my father’s room, familiar with its rich, dark furniture and tapestries, I eyed the luxurious counterpane on the bed and shivered at the thought of my young husband lying under the cool sheets. Not disagreeable to my eyes if he were, but a dishonor and disloyalty to my family nonetheless.
A wooden chest lay open on the far wall and I hurried to see its contents. Personal belongings lay inside and I looked into a pouch to find coins, a man’s ring, and a small book. I spied my family crest on a leather bag and knew it to be the one my messenger carried almost two weeks ago. I untied the lacing and lifted out three letters—my hopes died. He knew of my deceit. I made sure to leave the chest undisturbed and hurried to go. The door to my wing of the house came within reach when a voice rang out. “Lady Blanche.”
I froze and turned to face his anger but his face brightened with a smile as he loped to greet me.
“You are recovered?” Giles Beaufort took my hand in his warm grasp, gazing at my face like a love-struck boy.
“Yes. Thank you for your kind inquiries at my door.” With my hand firmly trapped escape proved impossible. His arm came around my shoulder, warm and comforting.
“Walk with me in the garden. Your men wish to see your noble brow and know you are well.”
Doubtless the house gossiped over my failure to lie with yet another man. He drew me to the stairs leaving no choice but to accompany him outdoors.
We walked through the garden and I shivered in the early morning coolness. My lord kept his arm firmly about me as we meandered through the late summer garden, pausing at the rose bushes to enjoy the heady scent of late blooms filling the air. He picked one and held it to my face.
“The most perfect rose.”
“We grow only white roses at Langley.” He ignored my wry remark.
“Are you ready to be my wife in word and deed?”
I could not refuse. A king commanded it and the church blessed our union. Somerset’s piercing gray eyes bore into mine. If only his features repulsed me but in truth he had the makings of fine-looking man. A head of dark, unruly hair, clear skin, good teeth, and a likeable manner proved him a better than average catch for any woman. Had he been of York blood my heart may have tumbled out of my chest in delight.
“I am ready. And I wholeheartedly beg your forgiveness at the unfortunate timing of…”
He waved his hand. “There is naught to forgive.”
Conversation ended and we stared at one another. A quiver ran through me at his appraisal. His hold tightened around me as his head lowered and our lips touched. I gave into the urge to kiss him, to know the feel of his mouth upon mine. Delicious warmth spread through my veins and the knowledge that tonight I would lie in his arms lit a fire within my body. I pressed his hand gently away from my breast. A lady must not permit too many liberties w
ith her person.
“I can hardly wait for nightfall,” he breathed hotly in my ear.
My nerves tingled with anticipation. “Mayhap I received a letter or two while confined in my room?” I needed to know his mind on matters concerning my plots.
“I will ask my liegeman to deliver it to your chamber.”
His reply improved my hopes but the little man, Murdo, with his watchful eyes and ready tongue gave me pause. Loyal to Somerset, he held no compunction when it came to working on behalf of the Beaufort family. In his possession my letters were no longer private and I prayed to God for intervention. My husband may forgive my conniving ways but not his liegeman. I waited all day for the letter and it dawned on me by late afternoon it would not arrive until after I performed my wifely duty.
****
I avoided supper in the great hall and sent a note to my husband asking if it please him that we dine privately. Dressed in my wedding kirtle, I waited for him in the solar. In due time he arrived, accompanied by a few men but he waved them away and closed the door. For the first time we were completely alone and the sight of him coming toward me, dressed in a dark doublet and breeches, pleased me beyond all reason.
He held open his arms and we embraced. My head tipped up to receive his firm lips against mine as he claimed me.
“You are very beautiful and I have need of you.” His urgency made itself known as it pressed against my hip. A small sound escaped my mouth and I wrapped my arms around his neck. The buttons of my dress opened at the light touch of his fingers, exposing the swell of my breasts for his pleasure.
“To look upon you as my wife is all I have thought upon these past two weeks.” He removed his doublet, dropping it to the floor. I admired his shoulders and chest, more muscled than I imagined in a young man. His hands circled my waist, pulling me to him, lowering my bodice to reveal the tips of my breast.
“You have a fine pair. Big and round enough to make a man dream of fondling you.” I reveled at the insight into his mind and gasped at his bold touch. He cupped me with both hands weighing his newfound treasure, and pleased with his gains, dipped to one and then the other, pressing hot kisses over my skin.
A Rose for Lancaster (The Tudor Rose Novella series) Page 2
