Constant Heart (4 page)

Holleystone was worth even this . . . Aphrodite.

It had to be. Until death us do part.

The earl never spoke one word to me. Though he did leer at me.

Once.

The ceremony finished, Joan took the garland of flowers from my hands and fixed it on my head. As we stepped out of the church, the bells tolled noon. The return to my father’s house was even more raucous than our departure. Once there, we dined on peacock, replete with its feathers; on capons and veal in pomegranate sauce; on pig and sturgeon; on wafers and jellies; on grapes and quinces. The barrels of wine my father had imported were drained by evening, but that stopped no one from imbibing in ale.

Later that night, after still more feasting and dancing, we were placed into bed together, the earl and I. He did what I was told he must do and then he left my chambers.

At least he had not stayed long enough to see my tears.

I sought the corner of the bed farthest from the door and pulled my knees up toward my chest to staunch my trembling. At some time during that long night, Joan climbed into bed beside me and circled me within the fortress of her arms.

When I could find my voice, I spoke to her in a halting whisper. “Is this then what a marriage is . . . one person conquering and the other being conquered?”

“Hush you, now. ’Tis the way of a man with a maid.”

I could not stop my tears. They were unquenchable, ushering forth from a fount sprung up inside me.

“Hush, now. You must not begrudge him a thing he had to do.”

“He . . . hurt me.”

“Aye. But tell me true: ’tis your soul that hurts more than your body, is it not?”

“How do . . . how did you know?”

She took a long time to answer, and during the interval, curiosity overcame my tears. I turned to face her.

She turned away, and it was then she spoke. “You do not know me, Marget.”

I knocked on Nicholas’s door. Waited. Put an ear to the wood and heard a sonorous snore. Knocked again. The snore stopped . . . and then started once more.

I had already been to the stables to chase up a game of cards, but my men were nowhere to be found. And the stable grooms were sleeping off their ale.

Knocking a third time, I threw the weight of my shoulder into the motion. At this rate I would soon awaken everyone in the house!

I turned from the door and considered returning to the girl’s room. Nay. I could not do it. And just as well. For as I began contemplating taking myself to the stables once more, the door swung open and Nicholas appeared.

He stepped out into the hall and glanced both up and down its length with bleary eyes. “My lord?”

“I have need of a place to sleep.”

Wisely, he made no comment as he stood aside for me to enter . . . though he did look a bit forlornly toward the bed he had just vacated as he kicked the rushes covering the floor into a pile. He lay down on them, threw his cloak about himself, and soon resumed his sleep. Along with his snoring.

It did not matter, for I could not sleep. I loathed myself.

Perhaps God would grant me just one request. If there could be a child come from this horrible night, then I would never have to touch the girl again.

That I should be one to make a girl weep.

She had tried to hide her tears, but I had seen them. I had only done what I had to. And it had taken tankards of ale in order to do it. But I had been as gentle about it as I could. And in the end, Nicholas had been right. The girl was not like Elinor. Elinor had always been more than willing . . . and that was the problem. Who had not sampled of sweet Elinor’s delights?

I stopped myself before I could think on it further. Holleystone: there was a happy, happy thought. I had Holleystone. Holleystone was mine. And this night’s . . . events . . . meant that the girl would not be able to dissolve the marriage. She would not be able to do what I had done to Elinor. At least not unless I lost my senses, and I was not planning to.

Nay, Holleystone would be forever mine.

But as my eyelids closed and I drifted toward sleep, the thought occurred to me that I might have sold my soul to obtain it.

The next morning there came a knock at the door while I was being dressed. I was startled to discover myself cowering, clutching my shift to my chest while Joan went to answer. She talked for a moment with a person in the passage, then closed the door and walked back to me. “A gift.”

“For what?”

“From the earl. ’Tis the wedding gift.” She opened her hand and held out her palm. Nestled within were a pair of bracelets. Matches to the ring I had received upon our betrothal. “Shall I help you with them?”

“I do not want them. I will not wear them.” Their glinting, glittering jewels were fixed to nothing more than a pair of shackles. And I did not wish to wear a constant reminder that I had bound myself to the earl until death us depart.

“You must.” Joan eased them over my wrists, and when I began to cry, she clasped me to her chest.

I was expected to sit a horse, something I did not often do, and ride all the way to Downham Market, some ten miles away. Accompanied by Joan, the earl, and fifty of his men, I gritted my teeth and did as I was bid. But, oh, the humiliation that was driven deep into my soul. All who looked upon me could not fail to know what had been done to me.

At least the earl’s messenger, who had turned out to be his Gentleman of the Horse, a man called Nicholas, was solicitous of my well-being. A tall and balding man with the look of a scholar about him, he rode beside me most of the forenoon and I learned that he had been attendant upon his master since boyhood.

“Boyhood?”

“Infanthood, my lady. His, at any rate. I came to the earl’s house as a squire.”

“You are of noble birth, then?”

“The second son of a baron, my lady. I could tell you many stories.” Though he waited for my reply, his tone made it clear that he hoped I would prompt him to do so.

“Certain though I am that you could, they are not of any interest.”

“I do hope there might come a time, my lady, when they will be. I remain at your service.” He doffed his hat before he trotted away to join the earl.

It was the greatest courtesy I had been shown that day.

“As one who has known you from birth, my lord, I cannot keep myself from speaking.”

“You will whether I wish you to or not. Be brief.”

“The countess, my lord.”

“What of her?”

“If you would only speak a word to her, my lord.”

“Why?”

“To cheer her, my lord.”

“I? Cheer her! You misread the situation, Nicholas. She hates me.”

“My lord, she cannot hate you. She does not know you.”

“She hates me. Watch you this.” I pulled my horse from the front of the column, gesturing for it to continue and then joined the girl.

“Good day to you.”

She shrunk from me, her horse jogging the legs of the maid riding beside her.

I waited until the girl had checked her horse before I spoke again. “I hope you travel well this day.”

She neither looked at me nor deigned to speak.

“Well . . . only several miles further.” I doffed my hat before leaving to rejoin Nicholas.

“She does hate you!” Nicholas’s hand hovered above his scabbard. “What did you do to her?”

“If you are going to draw your sword on me, I will do more than scar your cheek.”

“What did you do?”

“Only my duty.”

“Only . . . but . . . did you speak no word of kindness? Was there no tenderness?”

“I never wanted her.”

“And now she knows what she might only heretofore have suspected. Well done. And they call
you
the nobleman.” He wheeled his horse around without taking leave of my presence and went to join the back of the column.

But his words reverberated in my head. He should have stuck me through with his sword. It would have been more kind.

4

A
t took us five more days to reach London, and the earl gave I us not an easy ride on any of them. The country we rode through had been left dull by autumn’s frost. It was stripped of trees and thus of shade. There were bushes aplenty, but the woodlands had been deforested to supply the navy with ships during the previous year’s fight with Spain.

The skirt I had drawn over my gown as a safeguard had been irretrievably dust-streaked by the third day, but I did not have another. As we approached the city, I sought the earl to gain some indication of his expectations.

“My lord?”

“What is it?” His reply could not have been more ungracious.

“I wanted only to know . . . when we reach the city, what are we to do?”

“We are to join the court.”

“Immediately, my lord?”

“Why would we wait?”

“I had hoped . . . I had thought that perhaps . . .”

“Perhaps?”

“Perhaps I might be allowed to change into something less soiled, my lord.”

“It is already late and I had meant to have gone to Whitehall yesterday. Excuse me.” At that, he spurred his horse and made quick work of leaving my company.

I returned to Joan’s side and shook my head at her inquiry. “I am not to be allowed to change.”