The Border Lord and the Lady (6 page)

“She is your bastard!” Luciana cried angrily.

“Her mother died before we could wed, but our daughter was legitimated by Rome, Canterbury, and the laws of England,” the earl shouted furiously. “Why do you refuse to admit the truth, Luciana? This was all long before I even knew of your existence. You have given me three sons. My respect for you is great. What more do you want of me?”

“You loved
her
!” the Countess of Leighton accused.

Robert Bowen looked surprised. “Loved whom?” he asked her.

“My ladybird,” Donna Clara cautioned, “do not pursue this, I beg you.”

“Your daughter’s mother!” Luciana spat. “And everyone says the brat is her mother’s image. The whore who was your servant’s daughter!”

The Earl of Leighton slapped his wife across her angry face.

Luciana shrieked, outraged, her hand going to her burning cheek.

Donna Clara gasped in shock. Never had she seen her English master lose his control. He was always calm, always the voice of reason. The look in his eyes now, however, was one of uncontrolled fury. Her mistress stood on the brink of disaster.

The red haze faded slowly from before his eyes as the earl fought to regain some measure of control, struggling with himself not to put his hands about her slim white neck and snap it. Finally he felt calm, but he was very angry. His wife stood glaring at him, totally unaware of how close she had come to death. Donna Clara knew, and her eyes filled with relief as Robert Bowen came to himself again, and spoke.

“Aye, I loved Anne,” he told Luciana. “She was everything you are not. She was beautiful, and Cicely is her image. She was kind and generous. She was genuinely devout. We were blood kin, madam, but not so close that a marriage between us was forbidden. Old families like mine frequently parcel out the responsibilities of their estates to
kin, because in most instances blood will not betray you. Your interests are their interests, madam. Whether your estate is large or small, such loyalty is important.

“I might have wed the daughter of another noble, but an honorable family like mine was left with little dower. However, I fell in love with Anne, and we planned to wed. The banns had already been posted when her father was killed in an accident. She was his only child, and his own wife, her mother, had died when Anne was ten. The shock of her father’s death caused my beloved to go into an early labor. She lived long enough to push our daughter from her body, and then with a great sigh she died.

“I was content to remain unmarried, but Cicely needed a mother to teach her the things a girl of her rank should know, and I needed a legitimate son. And then your father learned I sought a wife. As your behavior in Firenze had made you unmarriageable, he had to seek a husband for you here in England. I was poor, but I could give you a title. You could bring me a fat dower, and give me sons. It was an ideal match, Luciana. I swore to your father that I would honor you and respect you. I have done these things. I have treated you well. You, however, have not kept your part of our bargain.”

“I gave you wealth!” she cried. “I have advised you in which trading ventures to invest in, and you have become rich in the process. I have given you three sons! I am faithful to you. What more could you want?”

“I wanted a mother for my daughter,” he said.

“I told you before the wedding contracts were even signed that I would not raise that child,” Luciana said. “You agreed!”

“I believed that once you felt secure, once you had given me a son, that you would no longer feel the need to reject Cicely,” the earl replied. “What kind of woman are you that you could hate an innocent little girl so greatly? What could she have possibly done to you before you even met her that you hate her?”

“You love her! You love her as you loved her mother! But
you have never loved me, Robert, have you?” the countess said bitterly.

“How many marriages are made for love, Luciana?” he asked quietly. “Certainly not among our kind, nor even among the poor. Marriages are made to gain certain advantages. Among the peasantry they are made for children to help in the fields. And among the nobility they are made for land, for wealth, for a higher position on the social scale. You are my wife. I have a fondness for you. I am grateful to you for the sons you have given me, for the wealth you brought me, for the knowledge you have given me that has aided me in acquiring more riches. You have my respect in all but one matter, and that is your inability to accept my daughter. For you and for your peace of mind I have agreed to foster Cicely out, but I will not send her from this house, from her home, without all she needs to survive, to succeed in the world beyond Leighton Hall. But even now, gaining your own way, you cannot be generous to my daughter, which is why I will have the keys from my storerooms from you.” He held out his hand to her. “Give them to me now, madam!”

Luciana stood up. Her look was murderous, but she unfastened the chatelaine’s keys from her satin girdle and flung them at him. “Here, and be damned to you, Robert! But why the wench needs a fine wardrobe in the house of a widow, I do not know.”

He knew he was being foolish, but she had angered him so greatly he needed to strike back at her. He knew there would be more difficulties with Luciana over it, but he couldn’t help himself. “She does if the widow is the king’s beloved stepmother,” the Earl of Leighton said with a wicked smile.

“Your daughter is going to live in Queen Joan’s household? The queen is fostering her?” The Countess of Leighton was astounded. “How did you manage to arrange such a thing, Robert?” There was new respect for him in her voice, and she was already considering the possibilities for their sons.

“It was pure luck, Luciana,” he told her, “but if Cicely does well
she will be able to ease the way to introduce our sons into the court one day.”

“Yes,” his wife replied slowly, “perhaps the brat will prove useful after all. And I will not have to see her ever again.”

“Nay, you will not,” Robert Bowen agreed.

“Take whatever you desire from the storerooms,” the countess told her husband graciously, although in truth it was all his to take. “The wench should not disgrace Leighton. Has she manners? Is she educated at all or will she be an embarrassment, my lord? She must not be forward in any way.”

“My daughter has manners, and enough learning to please the queen,” he said, amused by this sudden shift in her attitude.

“Even if she proves of value to us I will always hate her because you love her,” Luciana told him bluntly.

“I love our sons too, madam, and I was never aware that you sought my love. Have I not been a good husband to you? A competent lover?” he demanded.

“I thought it would be enough,” Luciana answered him slowly, “but I find it is not enough for me now. I suppose it is my warm nature that makes it so.”

“I am sorry then that I must disappoint you,” the earl told his wife. “But we need not be enemies, madam.” Nay, they would not be enemies, yet he could never forgive her for the cruel way she had treated his daughter, would continue to treat Cicely. With a polite bow he turned and left her.

“Does he hate me?” the countess asked Donna Clara.

“Nay,” the older woman replied. “But had you made the slightest effort towards little Lady Cicely, had you shown her even a modicum of kindness, my lady, you might have gained his love. The love he had for his daughter’s mother was one born of familiarity, longevity, and kinship. They had much in common because they were raised together. Do you not recall your brother Gio’s first love was your cousin Theresa?”

“He outgrew her,” Luciana said.

Donna Clara shook her head in the negative. “Nay, he did not. He would have willingly wed her had your father and hers allowed it. But they would not because each family needed a wealthier mate for their child. Your husband was not as practical a man. He was ready to wed his lover. Only her death prevented it, and then he did what he should have done in the first place: He sought an heiress bride. He might have given you his love had you accepted his daughter. I warned you, my lady, after little Carlo was born, to relent and bring Lady Cicely into the house, but you would not. Now the earl’s patience is at an end. ’Tis you who have driven him to it.”

“I do not care,” Luciana said irritably. “I do not need his love. I am his wife. I am the Countess of Leighton.” Then a calculating light came into her eyes. “I shall give him a daughter too! When he has another daughter, Donna Clara, he will not think so much on this one. And she will be gone from Leighton.”

Donna Clara did not argue with her mistress. She doubted another daughter would change the earl’s attitude towards his wife. Oh, he would love the child, for he was a good man, but he would not love her mistress. “You are worn with birthing your three sons in so short a time,
cara,
” the older woman said. “You must rebuild your strength, for if you are to have a daughter you will want her to be strong and healthy, as your sons are.”

The countess nodded. “Aye, I do want a healthy daughter. You must continue to give me that strengthening drink you prepare each day for me.”

“I will, my lady. You may be sure that I will,” Donna Clara promised her mistress. And as long as Luciana drank the potion there would be no more children, but of course the Countess of Leighton did not know it. And if her mistress convinced her husband to have another child Donna Clara would cease adding her special ingredient to the mixture. She was relieved that the earl had taken her advice and was
fostering his daughter out, for her mistress, she firmly believed, would not have let the matter go.

On the following morning Orva came early to the hall and sought out Bingham, the steward. Bingham was filled with gossip. “The earl fought so loudly with
her
yesterday that you could have heard them in the next village,” the steward informed Orva. “It was about our little lady.” He reached into his pocket and drew out a ring of keys. “These are for you. What’s going on?”

“Come with me to the storerooms, and I’ll tell you,” Orva said, and he followed her eagerly. “He has decided it will be safer for Lady Cicely to be fostered by another family,” Orva began. “And I’m to go with her!”

“Lady Cicely is being sent from Leighton?” Bingham was surprised. “So the countess has had her way in the matter.”

“My lord does it for his daughter, not for the countess,” Orva said sharply. “And into whose household are we going? We are being sent to Queen Joan herself!” Orva crowed. “We’ll be a part of the royal court!” Her eyes scanned the bolts of material.

“God’s boots!” Bingham swore softly. “How did the earl manage that? Leighton isn’t an important house.”

“He says it was pure good fortune that put him in Queen Joan’s eye,” Orva said. “I think Saint Anne, to whom I always pray, looks out for her namesake’s child.” She reached for a bolt of medium blue velvet and, unrolling it to the length she desired, took the scissors on her girdle and cut the piece. Folding it, she then set it on a small table.

“Praise God and his blessed Mother that the child will be safe,” Bingham replied. He was Lady Cicely’s great-uncle on her mother’s side. “The others will be glad to learn your news, Orva. May I tell them?”

“Shout it to the skies if you will,” Orva said, taking another bolt down, this one of burnt orange brocade, and cutting the piece she wanted.

“I’ll leave you then to your picking and choosing,” Bingham answered. “Lock the door from the inside, Orva. That way you’ll not be disturbed.” And he gave her a broad wink. “The mistress isn’t pleased at all this morning, I’m told.” Then he left her.

Orva took his advice and turned the big key in the lock before going back to her task. There was much to chose from, and Orva took her time. To the blue velvet and the burnt orange silk brocade she added a dark green, a cream, and a burgundy-colored velvet, along with a violet silk brocade, a medium blue and a grass green silk. She took a length of deep blue wool and another of rich brown to make cloaks for her mistress, as well as a packet of rabbit fur and another of marten to line the cloaks. She took linen and lawn for undergarments and veils, trimmings, buttons, several narrow lengths of satin, and another of leather to make girdles. The shoemaker belonging to Leighton would make Cicely new shoes and boots.

In a dark corner Orva found a small dusty box almost hidden beneath several bolts of heavy wool. Curious, she opened it. Seeing its contents, she smiled. Inside the box was a narrow gold chain with a small jeweled cross, a simple band of red gold, and a tarnished wire caul. The gilt flaked from the caul as she lifted it up. These few small possessions had belonged to Cicely’s mother, Anne. The chain and the ring had been Bowen family jewelry. Robert Bowen had given them to Anne in pledge of their love. The little wire gilt caul Orva remembered the earl buying for his love at a Michaelmas fair. She could still picture Anne in her mind’s eye, tucking her thick auburn hair into the caul and twirling about happily as she showed it off to Orva and to her father.

“These should belong to Cicely,” Orva said aloud to herself. The chain and the ring were hardly impressive pieces, and the little caul needed to be regilded. But the serving woman knew that her little mistress would appreciate that these items had belonged to the mother she had never known. She added the box to her pile. Then, unlocking the door, letting herself out, and relocking it, she hurried
off to find some servants to aid her in taking her prizes back to the cottage, where she would begin to fashion the gowns her little mistress needed.

When the earl came to visit his child later that day Orva showed him everything she had taken from his storerooms. The earl nodded, thinking to himself that Cicely could not be in better hands than Orva’s. The serving woman had taken enough material to make his daughter a wardrobe fit for a princess. Then Orva showed him the box with the few small pieces of jewelry that had been Anne’s.