The Border Lord and the Lady (4 page)

“Tell me exactly what happened,” Robert Bowen said quietly.

Orva related the incident truthfully and without emotion as her master listened. He recognized her version as the truth of the matter. His sons’ servants had been terrified out of the few wits they had by Luciana and their fear of her retribution. He knew that the three
nursemaids felt their safety lay in lining up on the side of his wife. As for Donna Clara, she had also been truthful with him, admitting she had come upon the chaotic scene after all had been said and done.

“Lady Cicely made no attempt to harm your sons, my lord,” Orva repeated. “She caught little Lord Richard by the hand when he tried to run from Alice. She sat by the baby and tickled his tummy. She had no contact whatsoever with Lord Charles.”

“The others say she put the evil eye on the two elder, and muttered cabalistic words in Henry’s ear,” the earl told his daughter’s nursemaid.

“What?”
Orva’s outrage spoke for itself.

Unable to help himself, Robert Bowen laughed aloud. “I know it is nonsense, Orva, but for the sake of peace in my household I must forbid Cicely the gardens from now on. I will tell her myself when I come to see her. I wish I could control my wife’s jealousy, for it is unreasonable and unfounded. But, alas, I cannot.”

“It is wrong, my lord, just plain wrong that my lady is kept from her brothers and her family,” Orva said candidly, “but I will obey, my lord.”

Donna Clara came privily to the earl that night as he sat reading alone in his library by the fire. He beckoned her forward and gestured to a small chair opposite his. “My lord,” she began, “I hesitate to bring this matter to your attention, but I promised my lady’s father, my cousin, that I would keep her safe—and your daughter too. Seeing Lady Cicely today has unleashed a terrible jealousy in my lady. She has spoken to me of poisoning this little girl in order to be rid of her. I cannot let her do such a thing, but neither must she know I have come to you, my lord. If she believes I have betrayed her she will never forgive me. She will find a way to revenge herself. But I cannot allow her to do anything foolish and bring shame upon her father’s house. Nor must she have the murder of an innocent upon her conscience.”

Robert Bowen was shocked by Donna Clara’s revelation. He knew
that Luciana’s jealousy could run high, but for her to even consider killing a child in her ire horrified him. “I must send my daughter away from Leighton Hall,” he said, realizing as the words left his mouth that he had spoken aloud.

“It would probably be best for the little one,” Donna Clara agreed. “There is nothing unusual in fostering a daughter out.”

The earl nodded. “But to whom?” he wondered.

“Tell my mistress of your plan,” Donna Clara said. “It will allow me to defuse her anger temporarily so you may have time to place Lady Cicely with a good family.”

The earl nodded. “You are a good woman, Donna Clara,” he told her. “Whatever happens, you will always have a home here at Leighton Hall, and a place in my family.”

She arose and nodded graciously to him. “Thank you, my lord, but I acted not to betray my lady, but rather to prevent her from blackening her immortal soul.”

“Of course,” he agreed, nodding in return as she slipped from the library. Then he sank back into his chair to consider what he must do. He should have never married Luciana. But then whom would he have married? When Anne had died giving birth to Cicely he had known he could never really love again. Not like he had loved Anne. They had grown up together. She was his household steward’s daughter. They shared family, for his steward had been a distant relation from an even poorer branch of the Bowen family. Then suddenly Anne was gone, but he had Cicely—and an estate with a great house in need of repairs. No coin for it, nor to even pay his servants, who remained with him out of duty, loyalty, the need for a home themselves. There had been no choice but to finally take a wife.

He might have married the younger daughter from another good English family, with a pittance for a dower. He did, after all, have an old and honorable name as well as a title to offer a wife. Or he could have, as he had done, sought out the offspring of a wealthy merchant willing to pay for that title for his child. Luciana’s dower was excessively
generous, and Master Pietro d’Angelo eager to see his daughter a countess. The earl had quietly investigated the family and learned of the gossip about his prospective wife, but as there was nothing proven and in the end she proved a virgin, he had been content—especially as she had given him three healthy sons in as many years, and her investment advice was excellent. He was fast becoming a very wealthy man.

But Luciana’s unreasonable jealousy towards his little daughter was becoming difficult to manage. He could not allow her to harm Cicely, but neither could he expose his wife, the mother of his three sons, to a charge of witchcraft and murder. Robert Bowen drew a deep sigh. Donna Clara was right. Reluctant as he was to do it, he knew he would have to foster out his daughter with another family. But with whose family? And what could he offer such a family in return? He needed to think upon it.

Leaving his library, the earl went to his apartments, entering his wife’s bedchamber. Luciana was awaiting him. Her face was tearstained, and when she saw him she began to sob. It was a familiar scene, and he almost laughed aloud. “What is troubling you, my darling?” he asked her as he came to sit upon the edge of her bed, taking her hand up and kissing it.

“I am so frightened, Roberto,” she said. “Henry might have been killed today. Your ba . . . daughter wishes them all ill. What will become of our sons?” She sobbed.

“They will, with God’s blessing, grow up to be fine men,” the earl replied. “As for Cicely, it is time I fostered her out with another noble family so she may take her place in the world. One day, sooner than later, I will have to find a husband for her.”

Luciana’s brown eyes grew wide. “You are sending the girl away, my lord?” The tears, the looks of fear she had been casting at him had suddenly vanished.

“As soon as I find a suitable family with whom to place her,” Robert Bowen said. “It should not take a great deal of time, and until then
she is forbidden the gardens, my darling.” He stroked her long dark hair, which was loose in her dishabille.

“What of her servant who attacked me?” Luciana’s voice was now hard.

“Orva will go with Cicely,” the earl replied.

“She should be punished for laying her hands on me!” his wife said angrily. “There is a bruise on my shoulder where the creature’s thumb dug into me.”

“You beat my daughter with no real provocation, Luciana.” Now the earl’s voice was cold and hard. “Orva tells me Cicely is black and blue all over.”

“She tried to harm my child!” the Countess of Leighton protested.

“
She
is seven years old, Luciana, and her heart is pure. She knows she has half brothers, and was excited to finally see them. We both know she made no attempt to harm the lads. You are jealous of my daughter, Luciana, and I have tried to reassure you in this matter, but you will not be comforted. This unfortunate incident will not be repeated, because I will send my daughter from Leighton Hall for her own safety. Know, however, that I have already settled a large amount on Cicely so that one day I can make a good match for her.”

It was not often that the Countess of Leighton heard her husband speak so sternly to her, but when he did she knew that he meant exactly what he said. Still, she would not allow him to cow her completely. “I am satisfied with your decision, my lord,” she murmured meekly. “But do not dally in finding a place for the girl,” she added sharply. “I cannot have our sons living under the threat of danger.”

“There is no danger,” the earl said, “but that which you have invented in your imagination, Luciana. Put it aside, and the matter will be quickly settled.”

H
enry of Lancaster had died on the twentieth of March, and his heir was crowned on the ninth of April as King Henry V. The young king was eager to go to war with France. The Earl of Leighton consulted with his friend—and blood relation—Sir William Rogers, as to where he might foster his daughter.

“ ’Tis a bad time, Robert,” Sir William said candidly. “But perhaps there is a chance you can get your lass into an important house if you can offer the king something in return. He’s like all the Lancasters, ready to do a favor for a favor.”

“He’ll need financing for his war,” Robert Bowen said. “I can probably aid him there. The Florentine bankers are always looking to make another profit, and I have many friends among them.”

“The king will be at Windsor next week,” Sir William said. “I’m leaving in another day or two. Ride with me. I can at least get you into his presence.”

“You have a new daughter, don’t you?” the earl said to his relation.

“Born on the day the old king died,” Sir William responded.

“She’ll need a husband one day,” Robert Bowen said.

“And he’ll need a rich wife,” Sir William observed. “My lass won’t have much, but I thank you for even considering it.”

“You don’t know what will happen in the next few years,” the Earl of Leighton told his kinsman. “Let us wait and see.”

When Sir William had departed Leighton Hall, Robert Bowen called for his horse and rode to the cottage where his daughter resided. Hearing his horse approaching, Cicely flew from the little house to greet her father. When he saw her, his heart contracted painfully. She was her mother’s image, with her rich auburn hair and her blue-green eyes. When she was grown she would be every bit as beautiful as Anne had been, if not more so. Even her creamy skin tone was Anne’s, and the long, dark eyelashes that brushed her rose-hued cheeks. The perfection of her skin, however, was marred by a purplish bruise upon her left cheekbone.

“Papa! You came! I thought you might be angry at me.” She looked up at him, concerned.

“Now, why would I be angry with you, poppet?” the earl asked her as he swept her up into his embrace, kissing her right cheek, gently fingering the bruise, disturbed when she winced slightly.

“I didn’t mean to anger your lady wife, Papa,” Cicely said as he set her down upon her feet. “Why does she hate me so?”

Taking her small hand in his big one, the earl led his daughter to a bench outside of the cottage door and they sat together. “I cannot sugarcoat the truth, poppet,” he began. “Your stepmother is a jealous woman, Cicely. She wants no other woman in my life but her. Sadly, I cannot change her, which brings me to why I have come today. Orva,” he called. “Please come and join us.” And when the serving woman stood by his side he continued. “For your own safety, and for the welfare of your half brothers, I am going to foster you out to a good family. There will be other girls with you from other families. The lady of the house will teach you all those things you must learn and must know one day when you become the lady of the house. Eventually I shall make a fine marriage for you, Cicely. Orva will go with you and continue to look after you as she has always done, poppet. You could not remain at Leighton Hall forever.”

“Where are we to go?” Orva asked the earl quietly.

He looked directly at her. “I do not know yet. I am going with Sir
William to Windsor in a few days. The court is very busy now, and if I am fortunate I will speak with the king himself. I will choose wisely, Orva. In the meantime you must keep close to the cottage. There must be no opportunity for the countess to see you, or to see Cicely. Do you understand me?” he asked her softly, meaningfully.

Orva nodded. “I will keep the little lady safe, my lord.”

“Will I ever see you again, Papa?” Cicely asked her father, and he heard the fear in her young voice.

“Of course you will see me, poppet!” he assured her. “Sadly, your stepmother will not share her excellent household skills with you, and if you are to wed one day you must have those skills. Most girls your age are sent to other families. You will follow an age-old pattern, Cicely. And while I am at Windsor, Orva will make you some fine new gowns from the materials she takes from the storerooms. You will be the prettiest young lady in whichever household you join.” And Robert Bowen bent and kissed his little daughter’s cheek, careful to avoid her bruise. He arose from his seat. “I must return now to the house. When I come again, Cicely, I will know where you are to go.”

“Go into the cottage, child,” Orva said quietly. “I need to speak with your papa.”

Cicely obeyed immediately.

“Would you send her away if it had not been for the incident with your sons?” Orva asked her master frankly.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “She does need to know the things that only a lady of rank can teach her. Donna Clara tells me my wife speaks of harming Cicely, for the jealousy assailing her cannot be quenched. Sending my daughter away will keep the child safe, I believe. Don’t let Cicely eat anything you have not prepared yourself while I am gone. Do you understand, Orva?”