Читать книгу A Wager for the Widow - Elisabeth Hobbes - Страница 13

Chapter Six

‘Have you succeeded yet?’

Will had been so engrossed in his musings as he made his way from the north wing that he had not noticed Edmund Fitzallan standing in the hallway until his friend shouted after him. Despite the weather Edmund was dressed in his heavy riding cloak and hood. Will experienced a momentary pang of envy, wishing he too could spend his days at leisure. He didn’t need to ask what Edmund referred to.

‘After less than a single day? I’m flattered you credit me with such ability!’ Will leaned against the stair banister and inspected his fingernails, assuming an untroubled expression. ‘I haven’t yet, but I will. In fact, I’m in search of your sister now—do you know where she is?’

Edmund raised his eyebrows and laughed. ‘Would I tell you if I did? I might as well throw my stake down the well if I’m going to help you.’

‘It’s hardly much of a help,’ Will replied. ‘Helping would be telling her of my excellent character and suggesting she finds comfort from widowhood in my arms. Besides,’ he added, ‘your father sent me.’

Edmund jerked his thumb towards the stairs. ‘I haven’t seen her, but try the solar. Mother will be there as usual. It’s possible Eleanor might have decided to join her. If she has, she might even be pleased to see you as a result!’ He opened the door and turned back with a grin. ‘Don’t take too long over the matter, Will. There’s a new dairymaid over at Collett’s farm and I’m eager to try a taste of her cream.’

‘Then do so,’ Will replied, wincing slightly at Edmund’s words. ‘You needn’t delay on my account.’

Edmund laughed. ‘What, and waste the chance to win my money back?’

Will smiled and crossed his arms, ‘So you do believe I’ll succeed!’ he crowed.

The frown Edmund gave as he left kept Will amused as he climbed the stairs to the solar, Lady Fitzallan’s domain at the top of the south wing. As Will entered the light, airy room and bowed, Lady Fitzallan lifted her moss-green eyes to notice him. She was not the kind of woman who would wrinkle her nose, but Will always had the distinct impression that if she were not the well-bred niece of a duke she would have done whenever she saw him.

She was sitting close to the fire, her tapestry frame close beside her. Anne sat on a low stool by her feet, a lute in hand which she laid on her lap as she saw Will. Three maids completed the picture of domestic harmony. They had paused in their task of sorting coloured wools and buried their heads together amid hushed giggles when they saw who stood there. Will and Edmund had spent happy evenings drinking and laughing in their company during Will’s first month in Tawstott. He hoped the information would not find its way to Lady Peyton, otherwise he might as well pay Edmund and Rob this very day!

Lady Peyton was sitting in the window seat, removed from the company. Her grey woollen dress almost veiled her against the stone wall, a stark contrast to the brightly coloured clothes of her mother and sister. Only her copper-coloured plait prevented her from disappearing entirely. Her feet were drawn up and an embroidery ring lay on her lap though she was staring at the rain. She glanced across when the door opened. Will might have imagined it, but he swore the briefest flash of a smile crossed her face before she looked determinedly out of the window once more.

‘May I help you, Master Rudhale?’ Lady Fitzallan asked coldly.

‘I have a message for your daughter—’ he began. Anne’s lute fell to the floor with a clatter.

‘For Anne? Well, deliver it,’ Lady Fitzallan said crisply, frowning at her daughter.

Lady Peyton had turned her head at Anne’s reaction. Now she looked at Will, suspicion flashing in her green eyes.

‘It is for your elder daughter, my lady,’ Will explained. He bowed to Lady Peyton. ‘Your father wishes to speak to you, my lady.’

‘Tell my husband he must wait, Eleanor is engaged at this moment,’ Lady Fitzallan replied before her daughter could respond. Lady Peyton’s brow furrowed and Will recognised the temper he had borne the brunt of. He hid a smile and adopted a humble expression as he crossed the room to the window.

‘He expressly told me he wishes you to come now,’ he said.

Lady Peyton looked past him to the huddle of women.

‘I’ll come,’ she said.

She unwound herself from her seat as Will bent to pick up the crutch that lay at her feet and held it out. Lady Peyton took it, her eyes gleaming and her lips twisting into a conspiratorial smile. Together they left the room.

* * *

A welcome blast of cold air hit Eleanor as she left the room. The solar was always far too hot and she had been in danger of falling asleep. She took a deep breath.

‘You looked like a lost sailor who needed rescuing from a sea of boredom,’ Rudhale murmured as they walked along the corridor.

He wore his customary cocksure expression, as though he viewed himself as a knight errant who had saved Eleanor from certain death rather than a slightly tedious afternoon of sewing.

‘What a vivid image. Perhaps you should become a bard when you tire of stewardship,’ she suggested.

‘I’ve done many jobs in my time, but I’ll admit that isn’t one I’ve considered.’ He fixed her with a wicked smile. ‘Perhaps I need something to inspire me. Or someone.’

Eleanor blushed at his insinuation. She gave him a hard stare to disguise her discomfiture. ‘Isn’t it rather beneath you to deliver a summons?’ she asked. ‘Has Father run out of messenger boys?’

Rudhale raised his eyebrows, though Eleanor could not tell if he was pretending to be offended or if her words had really stung him.

‘He asked me to find you,’ the steward said. ‘I like to take care of important tasks myself wherever possible.’

He sounded sincere, but almost out of habit Eleanor rolled her eyes. Seeing the gesture, Rudhale frowned.

‘Do you doubt me, my lady? Haven’t you seen enough to convince you I take my duties seriously?’

He sounded genuinely offended now and a needle of shame pricked Eleanor’s conscience. Certainly this morning in the granary he had shown more conscientiousness than she would have expected and the meal last night had been excellent. She looked down at her hands, knowing she was being unjust.

‘I apologise,’ she said quietly. ‘Other than our first meeting I have no grounds to doubt you.’

Rudhale nodded his head in satisfaction. His face softened once more and he held out a hand to Eleanor. Recognising the peace gesture, she accepted his arm.

‘You seem to have done many different jobs?’ she asked curiously. ‘Is it the places you tire of or the roles?’

Rudhale looked thoughtful. ‘A little of both, perhaps. I have no ties to bind me and one should never pass up the opportunity to experience something new.’ He tipped his head to one side and raised an eyebrow, leaving Eleanor wondering what he wanted to experience with her. Rudhale changed the subject, however.

‘Aren’t you curious why Sir Edgar wants you?’ he asked as they walked along the dimly lit corridor.

‘Do you know?’ Eleanor asked suspiciously. She had thought nothing of it, but now she was alert. She pursed her lips thoughtfully.

The steward tilted his head in acknowledgment. ‘I do. I could tell you if you wish,’ he suggested teasingly.

‘And what would the price of that information be?’ Eleanor asked. Her mind went back to his suggestion of a suitable form of payment on the ferry. Before he could answer she said, ‘I am more than happy to hear it from my father’s own lips. Yours may stay closed.’

Rudhale laughed. ‘Do you believe this is some ruse to get you alone?’ He cocked his head to one side. ‘Is that what you hoped?’ he asked with a wily smile.

Eleanor lifted her chin and glared at him. ‘Of course not,’ she declared, before relenting slightly. ‘Though another half-hour of listening to the maids gossiping and I may have taken the chance anyway.’

Rudhale’s eyes crinkled at the corners. Eleanor’s stomach curled around itself. She dropped her head and walked faster.

The staircase was narrow and the two moved closer together. Momentarily their shoulders brushed, before Rudhale released Eleanor’s arm and stood back to let her pass. As she stepped, her crutch slipped on the oak floor. Her ankle gave a twinge and she drew her breath sharply. Instantly Rudhale’s hand shot out to her waist, steadying her, fingers spreading wide across her back. His arm was as firm as a rock and a shiver passed through Eleanor’s body as she leaned against him. She allowed him to take her weight and hoped he could not tell the sensation his touch had produced in her.

‘It would be much more convenient if my parents would inhabit rooms next door to each other instead of at other ends of the building,’ she said crossly as she descended the staircase.

‘Different floors, different rooms and different interests? It isn’t uncommon,’ Rudhale remarked lightly.

Eleanor gave a vague murmur of agreement. She had often wondered about her parents’ marriage. The ambitious baron had courted and won the niece of a duke, but Eleanor had never known if there was anything beyond the attraction of the dowry. Would her own marriage have been the same? she wondered. Forty years of indifferent conversation and dutiful lovemaking? What had she said to Edmund? Safe and peaceful? And utterly devoid of passion. Not for the first time she thanked her stars that the prospect of that was over and done with. Her conscience stabbed her, reminding her of the price Baldwin had paid for her freedom and she winced with guilt.

‘Not that I ever intend to marry, but it occurs to me that if I needed to separate myself from my wife that much, the marriage would not be worth speaking of,’ Rudhale said thoughtfully.

‘You don’t intend to?’ Surprised, Eleanor glanced at him.

Rudhale gave a careless shrug. ‘How long do you think desire would last if your choice was ill made? Why take the chance?’

It was almost as though he had read her thoughts. The certainty with which he spoke of irritated her however. Eleanor’s cheeks coloured and the blood thumped in her ears.

‘At least if you did marry the choice—and the mistake—would be yours to make,’ she replied, more bitterly than she’d intended. ‘You will never be sold off for financial advancement, or your family’s position. It’s easy to speak of love when that is the only factor you need consider.’

It was the first time she had voiced her feelings to anyone so clearly. How did Rudhale constantly provoke her to be so unguarded?

‘I didn’t mention love,’ Rudhale said smoothly. He fixed Eleanor with an unyielding look, his lips curling into a hard smile. ‘And it’s easy to speak of money when you have it.’

‘Is that why you won’t marry?’ Eleanor asked.

A momentary expression of hardness flitted across Rudhale’s face. ‘My reasons are my own,’ he replied curtly. Eleanor blinked in surprise and, seeing her expression, Rudhale’s face softened once more.

‘Your father will be waiting. We should hurry.’ He strode down the passageway, leaving Eleanor behind and burning with curiosity.

* * *

Sir Edgar was standing looking out of the window when they arrived.

‘Ah, you found her, William, well done. Eleanor, good of you to come so quickly,’ he said. Rudhale bowed and left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

‘Eleanor, as you know our guests will be arriving shortly. There is a great deal to prepare and time is running short.’ Sir Edgar gestured to the table that was piled high with rolled scrolls and heavy books. ‘You will assist William in making the arrangements.’

‘I will what?’ The exclamation burst from Eleanor before she could stop herself. She folded her arms and looked at her father in astonishment. Whatever reasons she could have imagined, this had never occurred to her.

‘You heard me,’ Sir Edgar said. ‘William is capable, but is stretched to his limit already.’ He took one of Eleanor’s hands and patted it. It was the same gesture he had done to cajole her ever since her childhood, and despite herself Eleanor smiled. ‘Also, it is my opinion that you need something to occupy your days, my dear. It seems to me to be the perfect solution.’

‘Father, I don’t know...’ she began hesitantly. She stopped as a suspicion occurred to her. ‘Does Master Rudhale agree to this?’

‘Of course,’ her father said airily. ‘William is willing to do whatever it takes to make this occasion a success. It reflects on him, too, you see.’

That was true enough. Eleanor wondered if perhaps she was being unfair after all. The few times Rudhale had spoken seriously had been when she had called his abilities as steward into question. Her mind became so tangled whenever he was around that she could well be attributing blame where there was none. But still, the thought of spending more time in his company was unsettling.

‘Why does it have to be me?’ she asked. ‘Why could Edmund not work with him? They are friends after all.’

Sir Edgar gave a mirthless laugh. ‘You know I love your brother dearly, as I love all my children, but credit me with knowing you all well. Edmund lacks the character and inclination to accomplish what I require him to do. I would go so far as to say, the wisest thing he has done this far is to befriend William and bring him into my service. At least he will be sure of sensible counsel when he succeeds to the title.’

‘I barely know Master Rudhale,’ Eleanor protested, clutching for any more ways out of the situation. ‘It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to spend time alone in his company.’

Sir Edgar tilted his head and gave Eleanor a thoughtful look. ‘Eleanor, you are in danger of becoming a recluse. You need to become accustomed to the company of people again. William is a fine young man and very conscientious in his duties. It will do you good to spend time with him. The more I think about this, the more I see only advantages.’

He nodded to himself in satisfaction. Eleanor’s heart sank, knowing his mind would not be changed. She sighed her agreement, dropped a curtsy and left the room.

Rudhale was leaning against the wall opposite Sir Edgar’s library. His long legs were crossed at the ankles and he was whittling something with a short knife. He stowed them in the pouch at his belt and smiled at Eleanor. She recalled the hints he had dropped as they walked to Sir Edgar’s study. In a rush her suspicions regarding the part he played returned. Eleanor put her hands on her hips. She stared at the steward angrily.

‘Was this your idea?’ she asked.

He stared at her and spread his arms wide. ‘My idea? How could it have been? Do you think I have so much influence over your father? You must regard my abilities higher than I thought. I am not sure if I should take the compliment to myself or be offended by the slight on my employer.’

Eleanor narrowed her eyes. The steward’s face radiated innocence. Too much innocence by far. She crossed the space between them, her crutch tapping sharply on the stone floor, punctuating the silence with irritated bursts that perfectly echoed her mood.

‘I don’t believe you,’ she said. ‘You had something to do with it, I am sure of it.’

‘I merely commented to your father that if he could spare me anyone to assist, I would be most grateful. I may have remarked that you appeared in need of distraction. If Sir Edgar chose to combine those two facts, I can hardly be held responsible for that, can I?’

Eleanor cursed inwardly. She knew he would never admit it.

‘Lady Peyton.’ Rudhale inclined his head and smiled down at Eleanor. The unsettling feeling rose in her stomach again. ‘I will not hold it against you if you prefer to return to your woman’s work. I shall tell your father you prefer to spend your days sewing with your mother and sister.’

Still holding Eleanor’s gaze, Rudhale circled around her so he was now outside Sir Edgar’s door. He continued smoothly, ‘I am sure he will understand and I shall manage as best as I can. I would not want you to feel under obligation to do this if you feel the task is too daunting.’

Too daunting! Eleanor’s pride flared at the implied insult and blood rushed to her cheeks. The jibe about woman’s work had been bad enough, but she would not stand by and be held as incapable.