Claire Delacroix (60 page)

But Cedric was not to be swayed from his course. “It does not take that long to declare that the good ale be uncasked or that a new wheel of cheese be presented. You have been making mischief, unless I miss my guess.”

“Cedric!” Deirdre feigned indignation. “I would never …”

But she had no chance to finish, for Cedric caught at her right hand. He turned it palm-up, as if knowing what he would find, and looked Deirdre dead in the eye.

“You have been at it again,” he accused. “I thought we had agreed after the last time.”

Deirdre lifted her chin. “ ’Twas deserved.”

“Aye?” Cedric looked skeptical. “ ’Tis hard to believe that
Alys could have any opportunity to make any sufficiently deserving mischief. You work the girl too hard, Deirdre.”

“Oh, Cedric, spare me your sympathetic nonsense!” Deirdre snatched her hand back and bent over her trunk, blindly rummaging for a kirtle.

“Do you not recall what happened before?” her spouse demanded with rare insistence. “You will call the wrath of God upon us once more with your deeds!”

“I recall it well enough, though you would overstate the matter. The old woman would have fallen ill, whether Alys was struck or not.”

“You cannot be certain of that.”

Deirdre spared her spouse a glance. “I see no one falling in a fit this day.”

Cedric folded his arms across his chest. “Perhaps we should send a runner to Heloise and see how she fares.”

Deirdre turned her back upon his nonsense. “You listen overmuch to the priests and I have listened overmuch to you. There is naught to be lost in teaching Alys her place in this keep. That last event was but coincidence and has been given doubly its due. And truly we are well rid of the old harridan. She grew tedious.”

“You cannot know how the hand of the Lord moves in all of this.” Cedric huffed. Deirdre, knowing her expression was hidden from him, rolled her eyes.

Enough was enough. She was not going to cease running her household simply because some old maid fell down frothing and twitching. Indeed, she had only to look at the defiance that had bred within Alys in these past years to justify her choice.

But Cedric, of course, would never listen to simple reason.

Deirdre let her voice run high, deliberately changing her tone and mode of attack. “Is it not enough burden to know that I was only second best to Isibeal, without having you
fawn over her child? Do you wish she was yours? Do you wish my sister had parted her thighs for you? Do you pretend that Alys is yours? Is that why you insist on turning a blind eye to her many faults?”

The accusation worked as well as it ever did. Cedric was immediately contrite. “Nay! Deirdre, ’tis not so!” He framed her shoulders in his hands, as if he would will her to believe him. “I never favored Isibeal and I do not want any daughters beyond our own. ’Tis you, only you, who holds my heart.”

Deirdre sighed and tried to look mollified. “Truly? Then why do you so favor her child?”

Cedric frowned. “I do not favor her, but she is our ward …”

“Cedric, the child expects to earn her keep here,” Deirdre interrupted crisply. “Indeed, we all must make sacrifices since the crops are less than prime.” She glanced up in time to see Cedric flush.

“ ’Tis not my fault,” he mumbled, but they both knew that he was far from an adept landowner. “ ’Tis the wrath of God …”

Deirdre did not give him time to take that thought to its conclusion. She leaned into his embrace and pressed herself against him.

“Of course not, my love,” she whispered. “But ’twill be your fault if we do not make the most of this knight’s visit to our abode.” She straightened and touched his cheek. “Think of it, Cedric! Burke declared he has come for a bride. We must seize this chance to see one daughter’s future assured!”

Cedric still looked troubled. “But Alys did not need to be whipped …”

“Did she not?” Deirdre propped her hands on her hips and surveyed her spouse, marvelling yet again at his lax wits. “Have you eyes in your head? She is pretty, too pretty, even in tatters. Have you ears in your head, Cedric? Did you not hear the knight call after her from the gates when he arrived?”

Cedric’s brow furrowed. “I suppose …”

“You
know
!” Deirdre punctuated her point with a tap on her spouse’s chest. “She vexed the man. Cedric, he might have ridden directly out of our gates, and I cannot believe he would return if he left again. What of your daughters’ lives then? Would you see them languish as spinsters at Kiltorren forever? Would you see them barren and unwanted all their lives? Would you die happily knowing that they would perish without your protection? Ireland is not the safe land it once was, Cedric, and we both know that rogues roam the hills, seeking estates to make their own.”

“Well …” Cedric shuffled his feet.

“And you know that I have better instinct with these delicate matters of marriage than ever a man might have.” She straightened primly. “And this day she did defy me, breaking her oath made only yesterday. ’Tis not fitting.” She paused. “You
did
pledge, long ago, that you would cede to me in domestic concerns.”

Cedric looked sufficiently uncertain that Deirdre knew she was close to having her way. She twined her arms around his neck and pressed herself against his body, hoping for the thousandth time that her daughters appreciated all she endured for their sakes.

“Trust me, Cedric,” she whispered in his ear, then kissed him fully. “Trust me in this matter, my love, and let me see to all.”

When Cedric’s arms closed around her waist, Deirdre knew that victory was hers. “You always know best, Deirdre,” he murmured.

Kiltorren’s kitchen had a pair of great fireplaces on the wall below the bread ovens. Both were large enough to hold a spitted deer over the flame and a boy to turn the spit. Between the two of them was a niche for firewood, which had long ceased to be used for that purpose. Lady Deirdre had decreed that no
wood be burned beyond that used for the cooking of the meals themselves and kept a scrupulous inventory of the woodpile.

Indeed, the wood was under lock and key, only a certain count of logs and tinder entrusted to Cook’s care each morn.

This niche was always empty and had become the coveted spot to sleep, for the stone retained some heat from the fire for many hours. On cold evenings there were fights among the servants as to who would claim the space for their pallet, and none slept there two nights running.

Except when Lady Deirdre took the willow switch to Alys. Then there was no argument as to who should have the favored spot.

Alys lay on her pallet in that niche though ’twas only past midday, dimly aware of the familiar concerned faces clustered around her. The kitchen bustled with the demands of laying the main meal upon the board, though on this day ’twas a markedly quiet bustle. Alys’s back ached with the sting of the switch, and only now, out of Aunt’s sight, did she permit herself to weep.

It had hurt infinitely more this time than the last, and Alys knew her aunt intended as much. She could not help but think of that last ugly confrontation, of her mother’s beloved maid Heloise rising to defend her, of all that had followed. Alys had never believed that Aunt would repeat her abuse after that day, but clearly she had been wrong.

Alys bit her lip, distracted from her pain by the sudden realization that today was the day she should visit Heloise. How would she manage the walk? And how could she hide the damage Aunt had wrought?

Would Heloise respond as she had the last time?

Cook knelt before Alys even as she worried, his amiable face drawn with concern. “A brew for you,” he whispered, sliding a steaming crock toward her. “ ’Tis one my mother made for bruises.”

Alys managed to smile for his thoughtfulness. “ ’Twill no doubt make me sleep.”

Cook smiled in turn. “Clear through tomorrow’s midday.”

Alys pushed the brew aside. “I cannot drink it then. I promised Heloise that I would visit this day. She will be sorely troubled if I do not appear.”

“And more worried if you appear like this,” Cook insisted.

Alys frowned and considered the brew. “She may not notice,” she suggested hopefully.

Cook snorted. “One cannot tell what she will notice in these days. But, Alys, ’twas seeing you beaten that put Heloise where she is on this day. You cannot go.”

“I could not bear that she have another attack,” Alys admitted. “But, Cook, she grows fretful when I am detained.”

“Do not trouble yourself over the matter.” Cook patted her hand. “I shall send Edana—goodness knows she will concoct some tale or another about your absence.” He winked. “Though no doubt her ladyship will not play a favorable role in that tale.”

Alys looked at the older man. “Edana will not mind?”

Cook smiled. “You know how she loves to take her goats afield.”

Alys smiled in relief. ’Twould be fine. With luck Heloise would scarcely note the exchange. The elderly maid could be unpredictable in these days, and sometimes Alys was not even certain Heloise knew she was there.

Other times the woman’s wit was as sharp as a freshly honed blade. But Dame Fortune had done naught for Alys of late—perhaps her caprice was satisfied for the moment.

And either way, Alys was in no condition to walk to Heloise’s isolated dwelling on this day. She took a deep breath, reassured, and drew the cup of brew closer.

“Drink deeply, child,” Cook urged. “I only wish I knew that
tale Heloise always told to you so that I could sing it to you. It always soothed you.”

“Nicolette and Aucassin,” Alys supplied, her smile turning winsome. “I know it well enough, Cook. Perhaps I shall hum it to myself.” The older man nodded and straightened, though Alys knew he would keep a watchful eye over her.

She sighed and winced at the ache in her back, knowing she had never been so exhausted in all her days. Alys sipped Cook’s brew and silently told herself her very favorite old tale.

Alys had barely begun the numerous verses when the herbs in Cook’s brew took effect. Her eyes drifted closed, her thoughts filled with the gallant tale of two lovers true, and in her sleep, Alys smiled.

urke came to the midday board impatient to finish what he and Alys had begun. Indeed, a mere nod from his lady would have him presenting his suit If he could find her before the meal, he could secure her agreement and they could make the nearest town by dusk.

But Alys was not readily found. Indeed, she was not in the hall, even engaged in some petty labor. He could not hear her voice, even from the women’s chambers above.

Had he underestimated her response? Burke had thought Alys uncertain, shy, perhaps startled by the passion in his touch. At worst, he had assumed that she had been reminded of the trials that had ensued when they last had embraced in that same place.

But could she be deliberately avoiding him?

Nay! Burke could not permit that, not before the truth was laid out between them.

Deirdre took her seat, her daughters filing dutifully into place, and indicated that the meal should be served, though there was still no sign of Alys. There was a quiet in the hall that pricked Burke’s senses. Indeed, it seemed that Cedric avoided his glance.

Something was amiss, Burke could fairly smell it.

And he was nigh certain it had to do with his lady.

“Where is Alys?” he asked as lightly as he could manage.

“She does not join us, of course,” Deirdre declared, her sharp tone indicating that the matter was closed. She smiled coolly. “Tell us, Burke, of the wonders of Paris.”

The knight’s unease only increased at his hostess’s manner. She spoke too crisply and was too quick to change the subject. “Perhaps Alys should join us,” he suggested carefully. “Indeed, it seemed she labored so intently last evening that she could not have had time for a meal.”

Deirdre turned a cold stare upon him. “Again you show marked concern for those beneath your station.”