The Winter Love (19 page)

Sir
John and Robert came into the hall. Both were smiling.

“Isabelle,” said Sir
John, “Robert has asked to marry you and I have given permission. You will be married before Candlemas.”

“Thank you father,” said Isabelle demurely. Only Eleanor could see the little dance her feet did under her skirts.

“We will feast tonight,” said Lady Mary. “There is still some of that pig that we killed before it snowed and John will come from the village to play for us so that we can dance.”

Eleanor began to fee
l excited. She had never danced. She had never heard music, except as part of the nuns’ worship. Then she wondered how she would dance; she had never learned, since the nuns did not believe it to be part of a young woman’s education as did the rest of the world.

Isabelle caught her hand as her parents left to make ready for the feast. “How wonderful. I am to marry one of the richest men in Southampton.”

“I congratulate you,” said Eleanor formally. “This is a great achievement. You must be very happy.”

“I am.
And all the more since I am very fond of Robert.”

Eleanor was glad of this. It was not necessary for there to be love between a man and wife, but she thought it must make things easier. She had seen
her brother’s marriage from a distance and knew that he had had neither respect nor love for Anne. Edward respected her, she was certain of it. She thought it would not matter that they did not love one another.

Isabelle held out her hand to Robert, who approached her with a smile on his face.
He bent over her hand and kissed it, then sat the other side of her. Eleanor made no move to leave them alone and it did not seem to be expected of her and neither of them seemed unhappy that she remained. She knew, somehow, that it would not be like this when Edward asked for her hand.

After Robert had been accepted as Isabelle’s betrothed it was only natural that she should want to spend more time with him. Eleanor was asked by Lady Mary to go back to Southampton as Isabelle’s chaperone. Eleanor knew that this wasn’t strictly necessary; Isabelle and Robert were betrothed, he could not now change his mind about marrying her. She admitted, however, that it would make Sir John and Lady Mary happy if she accompanied their daughter. It was arranged that they would go to Southampton for a week, but she knew that Isabelle hoped to stay longer and she herself would not object to spending more time with Edward, despite her earlier decision not to return to the town.

Edward
arrived late in the afternoon of the day before they were to travel. It was only after the evening meal that he tried to speak to Eleanor alone.

“I’m glad that you’ve agreed to come back with Isabelle. I’ve arranged some entertainment for you.”

“Oh?” Eleanor smiled at his enthusiasm and she wondered what new entertainments he had arranged. She quickly put out of her head the idea that he cared more for entertaining her than he should. It was not as if she was an idle woman who sat waiting to be entertained; she would rather be doing something useful and she was not really able to do so at Edward’s house. Since she was not his wife she could not manage his servants or his kitchen, all she could do was sit and sew with Isabelle or be entertained. She managed to hide her thoughts from Edward and looked at him expectantly.

“During the winter, when ships don’t sail, the merchants dine together frequently. We will be out much.”
Edward presented this as if it were a great treasure that he had purchased at great price just for her. Eleanor sighed; she had no wish to meet more strangers. Isabelle would be happy, though, she enjoyed meeting new people and showing off her beauty and her fine clothes.

“The thought makes you unhappy?” Edward’s face clouded with disappointment.

“Just uncomfortable, but Isabelle will be happy.”

“Yes, she will, but I care more about your happiness.”
Edward caught her hand and squeezed it before letting it go. He seemed disappointed that he had not managed to please her.

Eleanor did not dare say that peace and quiet made her happy, that she would as soon spend an evening sitting quietly with him as with a roomful of noisy strangers.
The thought that their tastes were so different worried her slightly. She knew little enough about marriage, but surely it would be better if they took pleasure in the same things.

“I won’t offer to take you sailing again. The weather is too bad and the days too short.”
This was their shared pleasure, she realised, and he was disappointed that he could not please her in this way. She smiled; sailing had indeed been a great pleasure and she looked forward to the spring when she might join him on his ship again.

“You don’t need to entertain me. I will go to church in the morning and sew in the afternoon and meet your friends in the evening.”
  Eleanor doubted that he would understand what this had and would cost her.

Edward smiled. “I’m glad you are to come back with me.”

“I’m coming back with Isabelle,” she corrected him, not sure why she wanted to argue with him today. She tried to soften the comment with a smile, but Edward turned away. She watched him clench and unclench his fist before he turned back to her.

“I don’t care why you’re coming back, as long as you intend to spend some time with me.”
His response was more passionate than she had expected; did he love her after all? If he did, why did he not say so? Eleanor bit back the response that sprang to her lips. If she was going to disagree with him every time they spoke their marriage would be unpleasant for both of them. She spread her hands demurely in her lap.

“Of course I shall spend some time with you.”

Now that her resolution to stay in Sir John’s house was destroyed, she wondered what else she would do against her own better judgement in the next few days. For the first time she began to fear that Edward might be able to seduce her into his bed, but there could be no giving way on that; the consequences were far too dangerous for her to give in to him.

The next morning the three of them and the servants set off in a biting wind. Eleanor had never known such cold as she knew here in Hampshire. The convent was in a sheltered valley and she had only seen snow twice before she had come here. It seemed as if it is was always snowing or raining or blowing a gale here. She had made sure that she was dressed well and her new gloves protected her hands, but her face stung so much that her eyes watered. Her feet in her stirrups were cold and the wind kept getting beneath her cloak.

After one particularly vicious gust of wind they sheltered briefly against the wall of a house in the hamlet they were passing through. Edward turned to her and sighed. “You are suffering a great deal, aren’t you?”

Eleanor nodded, too cold and weary to talk. He moved his horse close to hers and reached out to stroke her face tenderly. “We will soon be in my house and you will be warm. I will make you warm.” Then he helped her to adjust her hood so that less of her face was exposed and they set off again. Despite his attentions she was chilled to the bone by the time they arrived at his house. All three of them sat in front of the fire in the hall still wearing their cloaks while Sarah brought them warm spiced wine and hot bricks for their feet. Edward sat close to Eleanor and made sure that she was closest to the fire. When she shivered he put an arm round her and drew her against his body. He moved slightly on the bench so that their thighs were touching. Even as she grew warmer, Eleanor acknowledged that not all of the heat was coming from Edward. Somewhere deep within herself there seemed to be a smouldering fire that was growing in strength. Could it be that his touch was doing this? She shivered again and Edward squeezed her arm; he knew that this time it wasn’t the cold that made her shiver. He turned his face slightly and whispered into her ear, “If Isabelle can be made to leave us alone, I can make you warmer still.” His words achieved the same effect, for she blushed with a heat that she thought must rival that of the fire.

As if she had heard him, Isabelle shrugged of her cloak and stood. “I cannot get my feet warm in these boots. I shall go and change into my slippers.” She left them alone.

“She will be back soon,” said Edward as he placed a finger under Eleanor’s chin to turn her face to his. Almost before she had time to breathe his lips were on hers. She sighed in contentment as his arms slipped around her waist and she was pressed against him. There was a new tenderness in his kisses, as if their short separation had renewed his desire for her. It seemed that she desired him, for her kisses matched his. Edward must have been listening for Isabelle’s step in the passage, for he released Eleanor just as his sister entered the hall. Eleanor barely noticed the conversation that Isabelle started with Edward as she entered the room; she was too busy examining the nature of desire and what it really meant. It seemed that love had little to do with it. She was certain that she did not love Edward. She might be fond of him, but it was not love. She recognised desire, however, in him and in her. And she began to understand why it made women do stupid things. The thought of never feeling Edward’s fingers on her face again or of never being kissed by him again made her wonder what she would do if he threatened to withhold those pleasures. Would it drive her to his bed?

She shook her head as she realised that Isabelle was talking to her.

“Are you unwell, Eleanor? You look so distant.”

“No. I was just thinking of something pleasant.”

Isabelle glanced at her brother with a smile. Eleanor frowned. Was that all that Isabelle could think of? Then she was angry because Isabelle had been correct. Eleanor stretched out her hands towards the fire, but now the fire that burned within her was shame.

Sarah brought them some food and they ate. Later, when Isabelle and Eleanor went into their room to change out of their travelling clothes Eleanor found that she was cold again, since her clothes were cold. They took their sewing back to the hall and Edward had already gone into the shop to speak to Simon about what had happened in his absence.

Isabelle chattered about things that seemed inconsequential to Eleanor, but she knew that if she did not join in Isabelle would insist that she was ill and that would bring other cares. She longed for the quiet of her night-time prayers, but that was hours away. Her head began to ache with the effort of concentrating on her sewing and talking to Isabelle. It was a great relief when Robert came early for the evening meal and talked to Isabelle. Neither of them expected her to join in, so she was able to concentrate on her sewing and her own thoughts.
Remembering how Edward had kissed her this morning as soon as they were alone, she considered leaving them alone, but she could not do so without being obvious about it, having no excuse to be elsewhere and they seemed happy to have her remain in the room, although not sharing in the conversation. Different couples must find different pleasures, she concluded.

Edward joined them and they sat down to eat.

“I have been thinking about how I might make myself useful during this visit,” began Eleanor when Isabelle and Robert finally gave up the effort of making conversation when neither Edward nor Eleanor seemed inclined to speak.

“There is no need. You are my guest.”
  She had expected Edward to protest, but she reflected that she could have been more polite in the way that she had phrased her proposition.

“Not for your sake, for mine. I cannot sit and sew all day; it wearies my mind.”

Edward smiled sympathetically. “What would you do, then?” he asked cautiously.

“I can read and write, I thought I could help you with your
bookkeeping.”

Edward’s face darkened.

“No!”

Shocked, Isabelle and Robert turned towards Edward, who recovered himself slightly. He smiled, but it was
a false smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be quite so forceful. You are not a competitor, after all.” He reached for Eleanor’s hand and laid his own over it. “I know you only mean to make my burden lighter, but my books are my business.”

“I did not mean to make an improper suggestion,” stammered Eleanor, surprised by the affect her proposal had had on him.
She had thought to please him and his anger surprised her. Stealing a quick look at Robert, she saw that it surprised him as well, as if he thought that her offer could have been accepted.

“I know.
” Edward said quietly, although his anger had not subsided, “I forget sometimes that you are not used to the ways of the world. We will find you something else to do.”

With that he leaned towards Robert and
suggested that they sing and started with a song about a maiden who disobeyed her father and was eaten by a wolf. Although it was a very sad song, with a mournful tune, he made them laugh by making inappropriate faces and gestures. Eleanor enjoyed listening to him. He had a low singing voice that was rich and tuneful. Robert presented them with a story rather than a song and Eleanor began to fear that Edward had chosen songs in order to humiliate Robert, who was clearly unable to sing well. This fear was soon gone as she became wrapped up in his telling of the story of Lancelot and Elaine. Robert was a masterful storyteller, although he told the tale in what she now knew was a very old-fashioned way. She had been surprised to learn that there were fashions in storytelling, but she found them all equally entertaining. She was sorry when Robert finished, but then Isabelle sang and Eleanor had never heard anything like it before. Isabelle had a light voice that faltered occasionally, but was always full of emotion as she sang of the doomed love between Tristan and Isolda. When she reached the end there was a long silence and Eleanor realised that her own face was wet with tears.