The Winter Love (22 page)

Eleanor knew that she had no idea whether Henry was a good comparison
. Isabelle seemed to consider Edward’s behaviour excessive, but what would she think if she knew that her friend had shared a bed with her other brother? Perhaps Isabelle was no judge either. She seemed to know about men’s passions, but had she experienced them? Robert did not strike her as particularly passionate and she doubted he had tried to kiss Isabelle. With a start Eleanor realised that she was trying to justify marrying Edward. She was choosing to lie in this bed for the rest of her life.

The next morning Edward rode with them back to his parents’ house. Sir John and Lady Mary were surprised, but happy to have Isabelle back.

Edward left after the midday meal. Eleanor walked with him to the stable to collect his horse.

“You dare to be alone with me, then?”

This
made Eleanor angry. There were servants crossing the courtyard and William was in the stable looking at a horse that had gone lame that morning.

“We are hardly alone.”

Edward smiled ruefully. “You should have said that it was my fault that you would not be alone with me.”

“You have great pity for yourself, Edward, but, yes, it is your fault.”

Edward stopped walking and she saw anger on his face. He turned to face her.

“A man who didn’t want you would be stupid.”

Eleanor felt something die inside her and waited for a moment to see what had changed. When she knew what it was she understood what she was going to do.

“I do not hold it against you.”

Edward studied her face as if looking for a lie.

“You forgive me?”

“Not quite.”

“Then I may hope?”

Eleanor did not return his smile, but nor did she avoid the hand that stroked her face.

“If you wish.”

Edward nodded and turned away from her. She followed him into the stable, but they said no more and Eleanor sought out William to see if she could help with the horse.

Three days before Christmas Edward and Robert arrived. Robert was to stay until they left for Henry’s, but Edward was to travel with them. To Eleanor’s relief he did not immediately seek her out to be alone with her, but she knew that he would. In his absence she had reflected on her decision and it still held; she knew what she would say when he proposed.

That night they
sang and danced. Edward seemed to understand that she would not know how to dance and explained the steps as they went along. She quickly understood what was required and followed him. She enjoyed it far more than she had expected. When they sat by the fire listening to Robert sing, Isabelle whispered to Eleanor, “Perhaps we shall have another proposal this evening.”

Eleanor shook her head. “No.”
She did not bother to pretend not to understand what Isabelle meant; Edward continued to make his interest in her clear to anyone who cared to notice and she allowed the attention. She knew he would propose soon and she thought he would do it before they left to go to Henry’s house.

In this she was proved correct.
After the entertainment everyone went to bed and Edward made no attempt to keep Eleanor with him. Even knowing that he would probably propose the following day, Eleanor slept well.

It was Eleanor’s habit to sit in the hall with Henry’s book
of hours for an hour after she had broken her fast. No one bothered her during this time and the servants had been told to work in other parts of the house. When she had finished her prayers Eleanor would go and find Lady Mary and join her and Isabelle in whatever they were doing.

This
morning she closed the book and ran a finger thoughtfully over the cover.

“That’s a fine book,” said Edward.

“It’s Henry’s. He lent it to me before he went away.”

Edward smiled, but Eleanor saw that it was false.

“My brother does not want you to forget that you are a nun.”

“
Your brother knew how much I need quiet and prayer.” She had not meant her words to snap between them as much as they did. It seemed that Edward possessed the gift of annoying her in the same measure that he excited her. The physical distance between them for the last few days had at least given her the opportunity to consider his actions more calmly. She had also taken the opportunity to ask for advice from Philippa and Lady Mary. It had been difficult to do this without raising their suspicions, but much of the talk between the four of them recently had been to prepare Isabelle for her marriage and Eleanor’s own questions had been no more than would be expected from a nun who had so little experience of life outside of the convent, yet was possessed of a great curiosity now that her friend was marrying.  She now understood that not all men had control of their passions and was more inclined to forgive Edward than she had been originally.

Edward leant against the wall by the door through which he had just entered.

“Will you still want quiet when we are married?”

Eleanor’s hear beat a little faster and her stomach twisted. “
Is that your proposal?”

“
Yes. We will do well together, don’t you think?”

Eleanor shook her head. “I don’t know. You would have to ask Mother Abbess.”

“You never took your vows.” Edward reminded her. “The decision is yours.”

Eleanor’s smile faded. “Then you must ask my brother’s heir.”

Edward’s smile broadened. “You are your brother’s heir.”

“No. There is a cousin. Stephen.”

“A cousin!”

Eleanor was surprised by the passion and fury
in his voice.

“
Yes. Philip told me that he would name our cousin as his heir. If he left his property to me it would go to the convent and he had little time for the sisters.” She paused as she remembered, once again, what Edward had told her about Philip’s opinion of her vocation. Now she knew enough to believe that this was probably true and she was saddened.

“A cousin,” repeated Edward pensively
. “In Devon?”

“
Yes, I haven’t seen him since I was a child. Henry said that he would send a messenger to tell him of Philip’s death.”

Edward stepped
away from the wall. “And if I sent to this cousin and asked for his permission, would you agree?”

Eleanor looked into his face, trying to
gauge his intent. Then she smiled. “I think I should like it very much.”

Edward
bent over her and caught a hand up to his lips.

“I shall try to make you happy.”

“I do not ask for happiness,” she said, “only for a home and your company.”

“Which I shall gladly give you.”

It was only when he kissed her that Eleanor realised he had not told her that he loved her. She was not sure why this disappointed her; she knew that love was not necessary for a marriage to be successful and often came later, as it had with Sir John and Lady Mary and with William and Philippa. She also knew that she did not love Edward and nor had he asked her for her love. He had spoken of desire, of excitement and travel, but there was nothing of love in his discourse.

“Edward,”
she said as they broke apart, “you do know that I have no dowry.”

“Of course,” he answered quickly. “I doubt the nuns would give it up. I do not need it. You know that I am wealthy; a dowry is not necessary.”

“You’re a good man, Edward.”

“No, I’m not. If I see something I want I go and get it and I want you.”

Eleanor sucked in a breath. Perhaps she had made a mistake after all.

Two days before Christmas the entire family and Eleanor set off for Henry’s
house. It was a cold day and snow had fallen during the night. Heavy grey clouds threatened more and Sir John set a fast pace so that they would arrive at Henry’s before dark.

Eleanor was transfixed by the country that they passed through.
She kept Edward busy by asking questions all the time. They passed gently rounded hills and pretty valleys. Most of the villages were little more than hamlets.

They arrived in
Winchester in time for the midday meal. Eleanor had never seen anything like it. The city was dominated by the cathedral church and the castle. She would rather have visited the shrine of St Swithun than go into the inn to eat, but she accepted the need to eat quickly so that they could continue the journey.

Sir
John led them to an inn where he was known and they were served quickly and efficiently. Eleanor remembered her last visit to an inn. There was no need now for her to fear. They were a large enough party to be safe from all but the most determined outlaws. The male servants were armed as well as Sir John and his sons.

Lady Mary was already very
tired when they made ready to start again and Eleanor felt sorry for her. The journey was too long for her to manage on horseback, so she rode in the cart with their baggage.  The cart was very uncomfortable, despite the cushions and blankets that protected her a little from the constant jarring.

“May I ride with you this afternoon?” she asked the older woman.

“Are you unwell?” asked Lady Mary looking carefully into her face.

“No,
please do not worry. I wish only to keep you company.”

“That’s very kind my dear. For a while, then, but not for too long or you will not be able to get back on your horse.”

They had not gone far before Eleanor began to regret her decision, but Lady Mary seemed much brighter and she thought her sacrifice worth it. Lady Mary was as inclined to talk as her daughter, so Eleanor did not need to say much and the older woman did not mind her curiosity as she turned constantly to look at the hills and fields as they passed.

Dusk was falling as they turned into the courtyard of Henry’s house and it had
been snowing for the last few leagues. Eleanor was surprised by the size of the house. It was much larger than Sir John’s and much of it seemed new. Henry had never told her that he was poor; it had always been her own interpretation of his clothing and lack of possessions. It seemed that she had been wrong and she should have gauged his wealth from Solomon and not his appearance.  He had been right about his house’s lack of defences. The house stood apart from the village. It was mostly timber built, but some newer additions were made of stone. The courtyard was surrounded by a wooden fence, but work was quite advanced on a stone wall and a gate. The wall was several yards further back than the fence and Henry’s intention of making this an important and imposing building was clear. A snow covered ditch indicated that a moat was being dug around the manor and its courtyard. She could make out the shapes of the dovecote and kitchen, but the rest of the property was hidden by falling snow.

Henry
came out with his servants to greet them. They carried torches and Eleanor realised how dark it had become.

Eleanor looked at Henry and it took her a moment to understand why the sight of him made her feel comfortable, then very uncomfortable.

Henry seemed surprised to see Eleanor in the cart and she wondered if he had not meant her to come. His face cleared as she jumped down into his arms. She barely noticed Edward standing beside his brother, waiting to offer her the same service.

“Eleanor has been keeping me company,” said Lady Mary, as she eased her way out of the cart with the help of her second
son.

“That is no more than I would have expected of her,” said
Henry warmly. “I hope you had a good journey, Mother.”

“Your father set such a pace I was afraid every bone in my body would be broken in that cart.”

“It’s an old cart,” said Henry with one of his rare smiles. “I’ll see if I can make it more comfortable before you go home.”

Lady Mary kissed his cheek. “You’re a good son, Henry.”

Henry smiled over her shoulder at Eleanor, who smiled back. Then his smile faded and something else took its place. He turned away and she could not examine his face any more.

“Come inside. I have
warm spiced wine waiting and a good fire.”

Eleanor followed the others,
keeping back slightly, so as not to impose herself on the family. Now she noticed that Edward was not walking with her, but saw him organising the servants with the baggage. She caught his eye and he looked away immediately.

They entered the house and went into the hall, where servants removed their cloaks and brought them warmed slippers.
Eleanor had now seen enough households to know that Henry’s contained more women than it should. They had brought two maids with them, but it seemed that Henry had expected to provide for all their needs.

Eleanor looked around the hall. Whereas the walls of Sir
John’s hall and all the other rooms in the house were plain, Henry’s walls were covered with pictures. Eleanor wondered briefly just how wealthy he was. Even the floors showed his wealth. She realised that she was walking on tiles, rather than beaten earth.

O
nce Henry had settled everyone in the hall with beakers of wine he picked one up and advanced towards her.

“Come with me, I’ll show you your room.”
She felt Edward follow her with his eyes as she left the hall with Henry, but he said nothing.

Henry
took Eleanor through two narrow passages to a small room which contained a narrow bed, a chest and a chair. For a moment, she was distracted by the pictures on the walls. Their quality was better than that of those in the hall and she stared at them. From the sheep and the dragon she recognised the story of St Margaret for whose sake she had chosen her name.

“They’re beautiful.”

“Peter’s skills have improved since he did the hall before I went to France. He is doing the other rooms now. I like this room so much, now, that I come in here before I go to Mass.”

Eleanor was silent, for there was nothing she could say.
It was clear to her that Henry had done this for her sake alone.

“Thi
s bedchamber is away from the others,” he continued, “so that you will not be disturbed. You will not have to share with Isabelle and the servants have orders to bring you hot bricks, so that you can sit here whenever you want to be alone or quiet. And it has a strong door and a bar.”

Tears filled
Eleanor’s eyes. “You’re so kind and thoughtful. Thank you.”

She
had never known the luxury of a room of her own, where she could do as she chose. She no longer doubted that Henry had been expecting her to visit with his family; he had prepared this room just for her. In Edward’s house she had had to sit on the chest when she was reading Henry’s book; here she had her own chair. It was covered with comfortable looking cushions and she longed to sit in it to ease the aches of the journey. Gingerly she touched the bed curtains. They were thick and bright, as were the coverings on the bed.

“It is a large enough house th
at I can be generous with space,” said Henry, as if in apology.

“It is a wonderful
house.”

“I will show you the rest of it tomorrow, if you wish.”

“I should like that.”

Henry smiled and pressed the beaker of wine into her hands. “I hope that you will not treasure your solitude so much that you won’t join us in the hall to eat.”

Eleanor’s eyes widened at the thought of such rudeness, then she
realised that Henry really was giving her the choice. He had noticed her unease with noisy mealtimes even with his family and he was offering her the peace she had sought so much since she had left the convent.

“I thank you for your kindness, but I am used to eating with your family now.”

“This is my home, Eleanor, and you are my most treasured guest. I want you to be comfortable and if that means that you wish to be alone, I will not be insulted.”

“There have been times
when such solitude would have been welcome.”

Henry
coloured slightly and Eleanor was distressed.

“I have insulted you and I don’t know...”
She placed her hand on his arm.

“No, Eleanor, please. I am the one who should
apologise and I do.”

Eleanor could think of nothing to say, so she
examined the room, finally sitting in the chair.

I
t was so comfortable she was afraid she would fall asleep in it if she stayed there much longer.

“The room is to your taste?”

“Very much. I could not ask for more.”

“Then I shall return to the hall. The servants will bring your things.”

“Thank you.” She stood again. “Perhaps I should return with you, in case I forget the way.”

Henry held out his arm for her and she took it.

Back in the hall there was more light and she was able to study Henry more closely. He seemed to have grown older in the few weeks since she had last seen him. His manor must give him many cares.  He had obviously been eating well in that time. Although he was still thinner than Edward, he had filled out enough that he no longer looked uncared for or ill. He was at his ease here. She did not think it was the comfort of the house that made him easy, just that this was his home. His servants moved around quietly and with purpose. No wonder he had wanted to come back here as quickly as he could. Here he could forget the noise of the battlefield and find peace. And he was offering to share that peace with her whilst she was here.

There were more people in the hall than there had been at Sir
John’s; it seemed more people had the right to eat at his table than at his father’s, or that he was more generous. Despite this, it was still quieter than Sir John’s hall.

Over the evening meal Sir
John told Henry about the state of things at his manor and about Isabelle’s betrothal. All this news seemed to cheer Henry and Eleanor was glad. His own news about his manor was also good. Things had prospered while he had been in France and the building work was going well. It seemed that he had honest and capable servants.

“And how have you fared, Eleanor?”

It was the question Eleanor had dreaded. She and Edward had agreed that no one would know about their betrothal until he had received word from her cousin, but there could be no keeping the attack on her from Henry. She was only surprised that he had not mentioned it when they were alone.

“
I have learned to ride a horse and I have sailed to the Isle of Wight and I am learning to sew.”

“And
did you get that scar falling from a horse?”

Eleanor’s hand went to the scar on her cheek
as if she thought she might hide it from him.

“No,” she whispered. “I did not hurt
myself falling from a horse.”

“Edward?”

Eleanor recognised the anger in Henry’s low voice and understood why he had waited until now to ask his question.

“Eleanor was
attacked in the street.” Surely she imagined that Edward’s voice was shaking; he could not be frightened of Henry.

“
You allowed her to go out alone?”

“Edward saved my life.” Eleanor kept her voice low and tried to make it clear that there was no more
to be said.

“Did he?” Henry banged a fist on the table. He didn’t even glance in her direction. “You were supposed to keep her safe, Edward, not lead her into danger,” he shouted.

“Enough, Henry,” said his father. “Eleanor is well.”

“No thanks to Edward.”

“I failed in my hospitality, Henry and you cannot blame me more than I blame myself.”

“Oh, I doubt that very much. You have never taken the blame for anything in your life.”

“I take the blame for this. I was wrong, I put Eleanor’s life in danger, but she is well now.”

“Sister Margaret,” shouted Henry. “How dare you be so familiar with her name!”

“Because we are to be married.” Edward spoke quietly, but Eleanor thought she saw a spark of triumph light his eyes briefly.

“Married?” He
nry turned to Eleanor. “You would betray your vocation for him?” He was pale with anger and something else, she thought.

“Enough,
Henry,” shouted Sir John. “You forget yourself.”

Eleanor barely
heard him; she was transfixed by Henry’s eyes. They bore such pain as if she had betrayed him. Then he turned to his father.

“This is my house...”

“Then you at least owe your brother the courtesy due to a guest.”

“
Believe me, Father, it is only the fact that he is a guest under my roof that has kept him alive this evening.”