Reunited at the King's Court

by Helen Dickson

  To Arlette’s relief the wedding was a sedate affair, with few guests outside the family and none of the usual frivolities. In the chapel, she tried not to look across the wide space that divided her from William, but now and then she found her eyes drawn to him like a magnet. Attired in stark black, he presented a daunting figure.

  * * *

  William’s gaze drifted across the chapel to Arlette. He stared at her lovely face as if seeing her for the first time and he could not look away. It was one of those unique faces that makes everyone else look commonplace. She was wide-eyed and vulnerable, and her golden tresses drawn back from her face and rippling about her shoulders were like a beacon in the fitful light that struggled through the windows of the small chapel. He silently contemplated her eyes. They were calmly focused on the young couple speaking their solemn vows at the altar, but their depths seemed to spread the longer he looked. Her irises were complex, touched by different shades of green, turquoise and peacock blue, and as exotic as a tropical ocean that lapped on the sun-kissed shores of foreign lands.

  The anguish of his own sorrow and a heavy load of self-recrimination for the accusations which he’d hurled at Arlette overwhelmed him. The words were cruelly unjust and he’d known it even as they left his mouth. How could he? He understood she must have been as shocked as he was when she’d found out about Marian and James Sefton. A protected upbringing had taught her honesty and loyalty to others. He could not fault her loyalty to her sister or condemn her for it, which was what he had done. He should have seen the signs of Marian’s indiscretions himself, but he’d heard no gossip or idle rumours, which seemed to be the fragile bedrock the Court of King Charles was built on.

  * * *

  The responses over, James drew his wife into his arms and kissed her gently on the lips. Arlette’s heart ached for Marian. She was to take up residence at Willow Hall and Arlette did not envy her at all. Lady Sefton was a cold, seemingly unfeeling woman.

  The wedding breakfast was a stilted affair, the conversation limited. Lord Sefton was genuinely pleased to welcome Marian into his family, feelings which his wife did not share as she cast a critical eye over her new daughter-in-law, whose face was alight with happiness and whose banter livened up the meal. It was an ordeal for Arlette—made a thousand times worse because of William’s presence. Throughout the ceremony he had been a towering, masculine presence in the chapel. He wore the same grim expression as when she had last seen him. Arlette was happy for her sister. She quietly noticed how Marian’s eyes sparkled and there was a glow about her, a bloom she had not seen before. She looked happy, a woman in love with her husband, which only intensified her own sorry situation.

  When the guests had eaten their fill and toasted the happy couple, everyone began to take their leave.

  * * *

  To his own vexation, William’s gaze wandered to Arlette’s slim figure throughout the meal, the boned bodice of her ivory silk and brocade gown revealing the swell of her firm breasts and miniscule waist, the folds of material billowing to her dainty slippered feet. The meal and the wine had brought a rosy flush to her cheeks as she leaned forward, the curls warm against them when she moved her head.

  When she rose from the table to accompany Marian to the bridal chamber, William went to accost her. He couldn’t define the mixed emotions he felt as he watched her move gracefully across the room. A ray of light fell on her, giving her an almost ethereal beauty that belonged to another world and stole his breath. Her hair was a hundred different shades of dazzling lights. She was pale, slender and utterly breathtaking. He remembered how she had felt to hold, loving and warm, and his heart ached.

  He caught up with her as she was about to leave the room.

  ‘Arlette?’

  * * *

  Hearing William speak her name, Arlette paused and turned. William stood before her. It was impossible not to respond to this man as his masculine magnetism dominated the scene. A curious sharp thrill ran through her as the force between them seemed to explode wordlessly. They faced one another now and, although neither abated one ounce of their dignity, or their continued opposition, the attraction between them was almost palpable.

  He cocked an eye at her, the flame of the candles that had been lit to light the gathering gloom wavering and setting strange shadows dancing around them. The light flickered over his thick dark hair and outlined his face.

  ‘You look lovely, Arlette,’ he said, with a cool nonchalance that didn’t seem appropriate considering the volatile encounter of their previous meeting. ‘I had to look twice before I could decide which of you was the bride.’

  Arlette smiled dryly. ‘Thank you for the compliment, William—if that’s what it was. If you’re still angry with me and intend berating me further, I will leave you now. After that unfortunate affair and what with all the preparations for the wedding over the past days, my nerves are in shreds and I am extremely tired.’

  William looked down at her in impassive silence, his eyes as calm as the sea on a fair day. ‘I am not angry, Arlette. I was merely commenting on a fact. You really are quite lovely.’

  ‘So is Marian. She made a beautiful bride. James is a lucky man. It was a quiet affair, which was what Marian wanted.’

  ‘When I spoke to Lady Sefton she insisted on forgoing any kind of festivity. Considering the circumstances that have brought about this union, she did not think celebrations on the scale Lord Sefton would have liked to be appropriate.’

  ‘Marian had no preference for an elaborate wedding. I sincerely hope that her marriage to James will be a success.’

  ‘They profess to love one another, so there is no reason it won’t be,’ he replied dryly.

  ‘Have you made your peace with Marian? She is deeply sorry for everything that has happened. You cannot leave her with ill feeling between you.’

  ‘Do you have such a low opinion of me that you believe I would do that? My feelings for Marian have not changed and her marriage to James does not mean that I have relinquished all responsibility where she is concerned. She knows where I am should she need anything and I will write to her occasionally.’ He moved closer to her, his eyes boring down into hers. ‘But what of you, Arlette? Are you happy?’

  ‘Of course I am. Why shouldn’t I be? I have acquired a sister whom I am growing to love dearly—and living so close we will see each other often. I expect you’ll be leaving London soon.’

  He nodded. ‘In about a week or so.’

  Arlette had a vague, momentary hope that he would offer to take her with him, but why would he? Why would he want to be with a woman he could not trust?

  ‘How long do you intend to remain here?’ he asked. ‘If you are ready to leave, I would be more than happy to take you to Oaklands House.’

  Two spots of high colour appeared on Arlette’s cheeks. Never had any man looked so attractive or so distant and never had her heart called out so strongly to anyone. As she continued to look up into his eyes, they were unfathomable. All at once she knew she must fight her attraction for him. He was leaving for Warwick. It would be madness to pursue it further. Only one week ago Arlette would have been overwhelmed by William’s show of consideration for her, but she was struggling to decide if he was motivated by a guilty conscience or if this was a genuine act of caring and trying to make amends. But she could neither forget nor forgive the cruel things he had said to her and needed time before she could put on the performance he expected.

  ‘I’m sorry, William, but I am not yet ready to leave. I promised Marian I would stay with her awhile. Please excuse me.’

  She saw a brief flare of disappointment in his eyes. He clearly thought that with just a kind word and a smile she would forgive him. But as she turned away to go to Marian, in a moment of weakness her heart told her to stay, not to reject his offer of an olive branch, if that was what it was, and go back. She was angry at this sudden weakness. Was he just tr
ying to break down all her flimsy defences?

  Determinedly she continued on her way without a backward glance.

  The bedchamber Marian was to share with James was large and heavily scented with lavender. With a fire burning in the hearth the room was lovely and warm. With two chambermaids laughing and fussing round her as they stripped off her wedding gown and prepared her for the marriage bed, Marian turned and her eyes sought out Arlette as a flimsy nightgown was pulled over her head. She immediately shooed the maids away and they disappeared into an anteroom. Arlette smiled and went to her, while taking in her surroundings.

  ‘This is all very fine, Marian. I do so hope you will be happy living here.’

  Marian laughed lightly. ‘Despite my new mother-in-law being something of a dragon,’ she confided in a whisper, ‘I know I shall be. As long as I have James as my husband and my sister living just a stone’s throw away at Oaklands House, I have everything that is important to me.’

  ‘And soon a child of your own,’ Arlette reminded her softly.

  ‘Yes, and a child,’ Marian said softly, caressing her stomach with her hand. ‘I do love James so much, Arlette. I never dreamed I could be so happy.’

  ‘Indeed. Is there not proof of it shining in your eyes?’ Laughing lightly, Arlette embraced her fondly. ‘I am so happy for you, Marian, and happy that you are my sister. You have become very precious to me.’ Holding her at arm’s length, she looked at her seriously. ‘And William?’

  Marian’s face fell. ‘I am sorry about deceiving him and I deeply regret hurting him. But he has wished me well.’ She looked at Arlette, her eyes questing. ‘But what about you, Arlette—about you and William?’

  Arlette stared at her, dumbfounded, and was certain her heart missed a beat. ‘There is no me and William.’

  ‘And you are sure about that, are you, Arlette? Ever since we were at Whitehall and I saw you dancing together, I have seen the way he looks at you—the way you looked at each other. William has never looked at me in that way.’

  An embarrassed flush flaming in her cheeks, Arlette stepped back and looked away. ‘I think your imagination has been playing tricks on you, Marian. Besides, I am practically betrothed to Sir Ralph Crompton. A marriage between us is important to Richard and Sir Ralph is growing impatient, waiting for my answer.’

  ‘From what you have told me of Sir Ralph, he is far too old for you and should be put aside. You and William would be good for each other. You have spirit and that is what interests William—it is a challenge to his strength, his masculinity, that daring recklessness in him that attracts the ladies—I saw it happen at the Court in Bruges. I was not right for him. I was just eighteen when we became betrothed, while—according to gossip—he was no saint. He was a hard-bitten experienced man of the world and a soldier, whereas I was a babe in comparison. I can confess now that I was always apprehensive about becoming his wife. No, you are far more suitable for him than I could ever be. I know that my situation has caused a division between the two of you. Perhaps I should speak to him to try to rectify matters.’

  ‘No, please don’t, Marian. I would rather leave things as they are.’

  ‘Well, in as much as I feel responsible for the two of you being on the cross, so to speak, I feel that I should. But if you’re sure...’

  ‘Yes, yes, I am.’ Remembering the words William had said to her on parting that day in London—that she had shattered his trust in her and that it could not be rebuilt—she thrust the hurt those words had caused from her. That day something had been broken between her and William, broken and impossible to mend. ‘There is nothing to be done, Marian. Nothing at all.’

  Chapter Eight

  When Arlette left Marian to await her husband, intending to leave right away, she was surprised to find William waiting for her. Unable to refuse his offer to take her home without causing a scene, she accepted. Just when she was learning to live, knowing she would probably never see him again, he had appeared and all her carefully tended illusions were torn asunder.

  Inside the coach William settled himself into the upholstery, stretching his long legs out in front of him as much as he was able in such limited space. With a smile of contentment he folded his hands on his stomach and closed his eyes, composing himself more comfortably, as if he intended going to sleep.

  Finding herself in such close proximity to this extremely diverse and complex man within the warm, close confines of the coach, Arlette was in danger of having all her rational thought stripped away and a treacherous warmth was slowly beginning to creep up her arms and down her legs. Her entire body began to vibrate with a mixture of shock, desire and fear—fear because of the way he made her feel, of the sensual pull he was exerting on her—but somehow her mind remained in control. She glowered across at his recumbent figure, indignant that he could look so disgustingly relaxed while she was existing on a knife-edge. She was determined not to let him off lightly. He had hurt her deeply. He could hurl whatever he wanted at her for all she cared. She was not going to plead with him for forgiveness because she had done nothing wrong.

  Thankfully the journey to Oaklands House took only a few minutes. Neither Arlette nor William spoke until the dark outline of the house came into view. The coach stopped at the bottom of a narrow flight of steps leading up to the solid, double oak doors. When Arlette would have risen to get out, William halted her.

  ‘Don’t get out, not yet. I beg a moment of your time, Arlette.’

  Arlette looked at him, wishing he had remained asleep. ‘Beg? You?’

  Drawing up his long legs and sitting squarely on the seat, he nodded. ‘If it is necessary, I will go down on my knees.’

  ‘Please don’t do that. For a start there’s little enough room in the coach as it is. Not only that—you would look quite ridiculous.’ She sat down again, waiting for him to speak.

  ‘Arlette, I’ve had time to think about what I said to you on our previous encounter and I want to apologise for the things I said to you. I should not have spoken to you like I did and I’m sorry if I hurt you. I do understand why you didn’t tell me about Marian and James. Your loyalty to your sister is commendable, but you must realise that I believe in absolute honesty.’

  ‘If that is the case, then perhaps you should have been honest with Marian and told her how you tried to seduce me on two occasions. Where was your honesty then, William?’ she retorted sarcastically.

  He merely looked at her and raised an eyebrow. ‘You are right, of course. I should have told her the truth and, circumstances being what they were at the time, Marian would more than likely have rejoiced in my confession and encouraged our relationship. But I firmly believe that secrets and lies are corrosive and when you are holding something back you hold back a part of yourself.’

  ‘I agree with what you say, but sometimes people keep secrets for other reasons.’

  ‘And those are?’

  ‘To protect the people one cares about.’

  ‘And you were protecting Marian.’

  ‘Yes, of course I was, as you did when you failed to tell her about us. Perhaps what I did in your eyes was wrong, but when I became Marian’s confidante—which is what I was and I feel no shame in that—it had nothing to do with hurting you in any way. So, if you cannot come to terms with what I did, then I am sorry. You have made it plain that it will always be a barrier between us, so I will live with it. It was my choice and I have no regrets.’

  ‘As it was my choice when I decided to make Marian my wife. I should have seen when Sefton appeared at Court to see his father the subtle change in her. Had I truly loved her, I would have sensed it,’ he said quietly. ‘Her eyes lit up whenever he was present, but I put this down to girlish fancies and put it from my mind.’

  The door to the house opened and a finger of orange light shone down the steps. Hester stood in the doorway.

  ‘I must go. Thank you for b
ringing me home.’ Opening the door, she climbed out, turning and looking back at him. ‘You are right. Failing to be open and honest is as damaging as a lie. The truth will eventually surface. Secrets and deceit will ultimately destroy a relationship’s stability. Goodnight, William.’

  Alette’s instinct was to withdraw, for she had to ask herself what she was doing caring so deeply for someone who had turned their back on her when she needed them most. She remembered the passion of his embrace, the joy, the fun of being at Court and, most of all, the unmistakable love for him in her heart before he had thrust her away. Just now, as she climbed the steps to the house, she wanted him to call her back, to hold her tight, to ease the pain of her loss.

  But that wasn’t going to happen.

  * * *

  Arlette would have been extremely perturbed had she been given an insight into William’s thoughts as he watched her walk towards the house. Arlette had grown into a natural temptress: alluring, lovely, entrancing and untouched. He found it hard to explain the appeal of this young woman he had brought to London when she had been just thirteen years old. Now Marian was married to James Sefton and he was to return to Arlington Court, he had seriously begun to consider marriage and Arlette was the lady of his choice. Proud and wilful she might be, he admitted to himself, but she was too lovely for comfort. She projected a tangible magic aura and, when he had held her in his arms, he had felt her vibrant inner energy and appetite for life. Her beauty in her home setting and on that day she had attended Whitehall Palace had fed his gaze and created a warm, hungering ache that would not be easily appeased by anything less than what he desired.

  He did not pause to understand the reasons for what he was about to do. He wanted her and that was reason enough. Something must be done to prevent her marrying Sir Ralph Crompton. It did occur to him that, because of the recent rift that had sprung up between them, she might oppose him, but he was vainly assured of his own ability to lure her into his arms. But with wisdom born of experience, he realised he would have to tread with caution. On their initial confrontation when she had made him aware of Marian’s infidelity, he had not wanted her to rebel and oppose him so fiercely. He would approach Hester and offer marriage to her sister with typical speed and resolve, and take it from there.