He trailed off and her brow furrowed with concern. “Told me what? Is something amiss?”
He still refused to look at her. He took a deep breath. “I was afraid that you would call off the marriage. You would have every right to, you know.”
“Know what?”
“Your uncle did not know. He would have never allowed the betrothal had he possessed an inkling of…”
Avalyn suddenly stood up. “Inkling of what? Charles, you’re not making any sense.”
He looked at her as she raised her voice. His big brown eyes glimmered with emotion, perhaps those of sorrow and shame. “Please do not be angry with me.”
He looked like a scolded child. Calming herself, she went to him, kneeling down beside him and laying her hand on his arm. “I promise I shall not become angry. What is it? You must tell me.”
He gazed down at her for several long moments before taking another deep breath. Then he looked at his hands. “I cannot… that is to say, it has been years since I have been able to… perform as a man should.”
She didn’t understand for a moment. Then, a slip of a thought occurred to her, what he might mean, and her eyes widened. “You cannot…?”
He nodded, now completely ashamed. “I cannot bed you this night, Avalyn. I cannot… I mean, my… well, it cannot be aroused and the physics have told me that it is because I have gone too much to fat and my heart is weakened.” He suddenly looked at her, his expression one of near panic. “I do not know if we can ever have children, my lady, but I swear to you that I will still make a fine husband and….”
Avalyn’s hand flew to her mouth and she suddenly bolted to her feet, turning away from him. Dear God, it couldn’t be true? If he could not perform as her husband then there would be no coupling this night or any other, and he would know that the child she carried inside of her was not of his loins. Panic surged in her veins and she stumbled away from him, towards the lancet window where the cool salty breeze wafted through the opening. She needed a breath of fresh air and she inhaled deeply, struggling to calm herself. Behind her, Charles rose from the bed.
“I am so sorry,” he whispered. “I never meant to deceive you. I know this must be horrifying for you, but I promise I will do everything I can to right this problem. The physics have even given me an eating schedule to follow. I promise I will adhere to it if you will only… not tell anyone, especially your uncle. He could have the marriage annulled immediately.”
Hand still over her mouth, shock written all over her face, Avalyn turned to look at him. He looked so pathetic.
“You lied,” she whispered.
“I did. I am sorry.”
She just stood there, unable to react for a moment. She could tell that he thought she was repulsed by him when the truth was that she was terrified for herself. She had to think fast.
“Have you… tried?” It was hard to spit out the words.
He shrugged, embarrassed and upset. “I have. Many times. But nothing works.”
“You have not tried it with me.”
His eyes widened at her. “That is true,” he said, almost hopefully. “But I could not ask you to do this with the very real possibility of no end result. It would be demeaning for you, not to mention a horrendous experience for your wedding night. Nay, my lady, I would not allow this.”
Now it was she who was wringing her hands as she moved towards him, struggling not to let her anxiety show. “I will insist. How are we to know if it will not work unless we try?”
He just looked at her, his embarrassment fading as sorrow took hold. With every ounce of strength she possessed, Avalyn reached out and took his left hand. Smiling wanly, she put it against her left cheek, hoping to spark some embers into him. Charles gazed back at her, an odd expression coming over his face as he lifted his other hand and gently cupped her face. He stood there a moment, gazing at her with wonderment.
“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” he breathed. “Surely you cannot be too angry with me for wanting to keep you at all cost.”
“Let us see if it was worth the lies and deceit on both our parts.”
He nodded, licking his lips as he moved towards her. Avalyn could feel his hot breath on her face, smelling of alcohol, and it was a struggle not to vomit. She could hardly believe the revelations of the night and now the event of something she was loathe to perform. But it had be done. She had to do her very best to make it happen. She prayed that Brogan would forgive her, wherever he was. She screwed her eyes shut tightly. Maybe if she couldn’t see what was happening, it wouldn’t be so bad.
As his lips hovered above her, Charles suddenly let out a loud groan. Avalyn’s eyes flew open just in time to see him clutch his chest and collapse in a heap.
He was dead before he hit the ground.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“The physics knew he had a bad heart. He did not want anyone to tell you.”
Exhausted, cold and sickened, Avalyn sat in the solar in the pale gray of the coming dawn, listening to Barton’s soft explanations. The weddings guests were still about, having not been told of the groom’s death. For the moment, those that knew were still in shock. Especially Avalyn.
“Then you knew, too?” she looked at Barton, her voice soft and weary. “So this was nothing surprising, then?”
Barton drew in a long, slow breath. “It is not surprising. Shocking, aye. The man is only thirty three years old. But he knew his heart was bad. Why do you think he was so eager to marry? He wanted to at least have a wife to leave his estates and titles to, and hopefully any children.” Barton’s gaze fixed on her, guardedly. “Is there… a possibility of children, my lady?”
Avalyn didn’t dare look at William, standing in the shadows just inside the doorway. She could feel his gaze upon her, questioning, sympathetic. So Barton must not know of Charles impotency, she thought. Had he known, he would not have asked such a question. She lowered her head, staring at the smoking embers in the massive hearth. She was so very tired of lies and deception, but one more was necessary for all their sakes.
“Aye,” she murmured. “There is a possibility.”
Barton took a deep, cleansing breath as he nodded his head. It was clear that the man was struggling with his grief. The events of the past few hours had been disheartening and startling. He was still having difficulty believing it, no matter how he pretended otherwise.
“God be praised,” he said softly. His gaze lingered on Avalyn’s pale face, now illuminated by the early dawn’s light. “You are the lady of Guerdley Cross, sole commander of her armies. I am sworn to obey you to the death. What is the first order you would have me carry out, Lady Aubrey?”
Avalyn tore her eyes away from the dying embers of the hearth, focusing on the handsome blond knight with whom she had shared a strange relationship. He’d set her straight on a good many things when her moral compass seemed to be spinning out of control; Brogan would do as she wished, William would bow to her commands, but Barton had been given the advantage of being moderately objective. No matter what had happened between them, she had grown to trust the man. She respected him a great deal.
She rose stiffly from her chair, moving to the fading fire and throwing a lump of peat on it. William moved forward to take the duty from her, gently but firmly shoving her away.
“Lady Aubrey does not stoke her own fire,” he said, a twinkle in his tired eyes. “Answer Sir Barton. What would be your first command to us?”
She could only grin at him, wearily, before looking back to Barton. She pulled her heavy brocade cloak, the one Charles had given her, more tightly around her chilled shoulders.
“It would seem our first order of business would be to bury my husband,” she said, softly but with a commanding tone that William was familiar with. “Where is the Aubrey family crypt?”
“In the cathedral in St. Helens,” Barton told her. “I shall send someone immediately to summon the priest.”
Avalyn nodded, trying to sort out
her muddled thoughts. “The guests must be told, including my uncle,” she looked at William as she made the statement, something unsettling in that idea. “This marriage was of his making, after all. He will want to know.”
William was crouched beside the fire, meeting her gaze, reading her thoughts. He knew de Neville better than anyone and knew exactly what a wealthy widowed niece would mean to him.
“You have Guerdley Cross and a great deal of wealth now, my lady,” William stood up with the poker in his hand. “I mean no slander against your uncle, as you well know, but he will insist on marrying you off immediately. You are more valuable to him now than ever.”
More burdens added to Avalyn’s weary mind. Something ominous and sickening was settling over her. She sought out her chair again, sinking heavily. There was hesitance writing all over her face. “I do not wish to marry again anytime soon,” she murmured. “But you are correct, William. The moment he is told of Charles’ death, he will be planning my next husband.”
Barton’s expression was one of concern mixed with duty. “He would do this, my lady? Would he give no respect to your mourning?”
She nodded strongly. “Without hesitation. And you, Sir Barton, would have a new lord, perhaps one you would not be so fond of. It would be completely out of my hands.”
Barton didn’t particularly like that thought; his gaze moved between Avalyn and William. “Then what are you suggesting?” he asked.
William’s gaze never left Avalyn’s face. “Wait until he leaves for Warwick,” William spoke to her as if she was the only person in the room. “Do not tell him now. Go up to your chamber and stay there until he has left. We will bury Lord Aubrey after he is gone and perhaps send him a missive in a few months when everything has settled down.”
“Or perhaps not send him one at all,” Avalyn fired back softly. She clutched at the cloak as if it could protect her from her uncle’s evil reaches and cunning manipulation. “Let him think what he will. Let him think that Charles is alive and well. And when he should eventually find out, perhaps… perhaps by that time I will have already married someone of my own choosing, a man that I am familiar with who possesses moral character and a noble background.”
Barton’s expression was now stamped with uncertainty. “What about the other guests? What about the soldiers?” he looked at them as if they were bordering on insanity. “If we tell them that Lord Aubrey has passed, the word will get back to de Neville. If we do not tell them, eventually, they will deduce that something is wrong. We cannot keep Lord Aubrey’s death hidden forever.”
“Nay, not forever,” Avalyn looked at him. “But for the time being. Are you so eager to have a new liege, Barton?”
St. John lifted an eyebrow. “It does not matter what I want, but what is right.”
“And is it wrong for us to keep this news from my uncle? Considering all the man is and all you know him to be, what do you think he will do?” When Barton didn’t answer fast enough, she continued. “I shall tell you what he will do; he will find a new husband for me within a few weeks at most. Guerdley Cross will cease to be an Aubrey holding and will be passed over to a rich baron or earl, or even a French mercenary. You know that my uncle has dealings with those men, too. Slimy creatures with foul habits and even fouler ethics. If that is the case and I am forced to marry someone else, then any child Charles and I might have will not inherit Guerdley Cross and the Aubrey name will cease to exist. In fact, any child born as a result of my marriage to Charles will more than likely be sent away to foster, probably never to be heard from again. Have no doubt that this could very well be the case given the greater implications of my uncle’s dealings and the wealth of this holding. Is this something you would wish to see?”
It was a passionate speech. By the time she was finished, Barton was gazing at her intently. His big arms were crossed, his blue eyes serious. After a moment, he slowly shook his head.
“Nay, my lady,” he said slowly. “It is not.”
It was Avalyn’s turn to cock an eyebrow. “Then you must trust me that it is best if no one knows of Charles’ passing but those of us in this room.”
Barton drew in a long, contemplative death. He looked at William, reading his expression, before turning back to Avalyn. “If that is your command, Lady Aubrey,” he said quietly. “I will obey it.”
Avalyn stared at the man a moment before rising to her feet. She made her way over to him, laying a soft hand on his big arm. Her golden eyes were sincere. “I know you do not like this, Barton,” she said softly. “I know you are a man of truth and honor. But your world has always been one of following orders and upholding the knightly code. I come from a world where men would manipulate God himself in order to have their ways known. My uncle is such a man. Surely you know that.”
He met her gaze. “I do,” he said quietly. “And I do not disagree with your command. I said that I would obey it.”
“I know you will. But I want you to understand why. It is for Charles’ sake as well as mine. My uncle will erase the Aubrey name from this earth if he finds out I am a widow in control of Guerdley Cross. Everything Charles held dear will belong to another. I would like to hold that off if I can.”
Barton just looked at her, trying to figure out if her motives were self-serving or if she was truly being self-sacrificing. Perhaps it was a little of both. He could not blame her. “And I shall help you, my lady.”
She patted his arm gently. “Thank you,” she said softly. “Now, where did you put Charles’ body?”
“I left him in the chamber, my lady,” he replied. “Where would you like me to move him?”
She moved away from Barton, back towards the fire that was now starting to blaze. “Is there another place to keep him? Somewhere secure until we can arrange a secret burial?”
Barton thought a moment. “There are several places I can think of off-hand,” he replied. “Perhaps it is best to wait until dark before moving him, however.”
“Agreed,” she said. “I would now have you ride to St. Helen and tell the priest what has happened. Swear the man to silence in exchange for a large donation. Tell him we will have to bury him in the utmost secrecy and make arrangements for that time and place.”
“Aye, my lady,” Barton was already moving for the door. “Anything else?”
She shook her head. “Not that I can think of. Go about your business.”
Barton was gone, leaving Avalyn and William alone in the solar. William just stood there, staring at her delicate profile. He took a timid step towards her. “Are you all right, Avalyn?” he asked softly.
She looked over at him, her eyes growing moist. “I am well,” she whispered. “He never touched me.”
William’s eyes widened. “What?”
“He never touched me,” she repeated quietly. “We talked a long while. Then… then he never got the chance. It was over before it began.”
“But you told…?”
“I know what I told him. I had to.” She could see the shock on his face and she sought to make him understand. “William, Charles told me that he was physically incapable of performing as a man. He said that he had been that way for years. He was terrified that I was going to tell my uncle and that Uncle Richard would have the marriage annulled. So to tell Barton a slight untruth… it saves Charles’ manhood to the world. Perhaps this child was conceived for a reason and perhaps everything happened as it did for the greater good. This child will be born an Aubrey and will know all of the wealth and benefits that Brogan could never provide.”
William understood a great deal, then. Now it all made sense. “How noble of you, my lady,” he said with a hint of satisfaction in his voice. “You never cease to amaze me.”
She smiled weakly, her features pale in the growing light of the room. She moved to the lancet windows, gazing at the awakening bailey beyond. The sky was amazingly clear, none of the fog that was so usual. It was going to be a lovely day.
“William,” she said softly. “
Will you do something for me?”
“Anything, my lady.”
A soft breeze caught her chestnut hair, lifting soft tendrils around her face. “I want you to bring me some ink and vellum,” she murmured. “I have something I must write.”
William eyed her a moment before turning to the great desk Charles had conducted his business from. He went over to it, finding vellum in the special box that writing paper was usually contained in, and a bit of further digging turned up another box containing ink and quill. As he pulled everything out, Avalyn rose wearily from her seat and made her way over to the desk, planting herself in Charles’ enormous chair. It had been designed to fit his girth.
Avalyn sighed pensively as she pulled out the quill and dipped it in the ink. She had so very much on her mind, thoughts and ideals swirling in the weary depths. She had been pondering the course of her future since the realization that Charles was dead, thoughts that became clearing as the day began to dawn.
Even as she had spoken with Barton, and with William, in the back of her mind she still know what she needed to do. She would not remain here, waiting to be used as a pawn again by her ambitious uncle. Nay; she intended to take charge of her life as no woman ever had. As always, she intended to do what she wanted to do, and to the devil with her uncle. He may have won the battle, but she intended to win the war. As William lit a bank of fat tapers, producing more light for her to see by, Avalyn began to carefully scribe.
She could feel William’s curiosity from where she stood but she ignored him as she cautiously sketched out each letter. She was nearly finished before she spoke again.
“This is a directive to my uncle,” she said softly, scratching out the last few letters. “As I said before, he will undoubtedly be planning on who else he can wed me to once he discovers that Charles has passed. We cannot keep my husband’s death from him forever, so this missive is designed to circumvent anything he might try to do. Whatever happens, I want Guerdley Cross to remain intact. I want it for this child.”
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