Читать книгу The Bride's Portion - Susan Paul - Страница 6

“Here you are,” Willem said as he stuck his head through the door. “I should have known where you’d be when you didn’t appear for the morning meal.”

Alexander looked up from the table at which he sat and gave Willem a brief smile. “Come and keep me company.” He nodded at a chair across from him. “I fear I slept ill last night and rose earlier than usual. Cook fed me some bread and cheese in the kitchen.”

Frowning, Willem strolled across the room. “You do look tired, Alex. This matter with Wellewyn wears on you, and I imagine our...guests trouble you, as well. Have you decided what you’ll do with them?”

Alexander shook his head and lifted one hand to rub his tired eyes. Slept ill last night? In truth, he’d not slept at all. Coming home to find Lillis of Wellewyn a captive in his home had left him in shock, and he had lain awake, staring into the darkness and wondering what he should do with her. He had several choices, and not a one of them ideal.

He could send Jaward a missive, letting him know that his daughter was being kept at Gyer, and could word it in such a way that no obvious threat would be implied, or he could come right out and tell Jaward to meet his terms else his only child would suffer. The problem with the latter was that Jaward would probably realize Alexander didn’t possess the meanness to actually hurt a woman; the problem with the former was that Jaward would simply go to the king and petition his aid in having his daughter returned. Holding Lillis of Wellewyn certainly seemed like a good way of getting what he wanted from the old man, but Alexander wasn’t yet sure how to go about using her to his advantage.

“No,” he answered at last, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve not yet decided what I’m going to do. I’ve instructed Aunt Leta to bring the lady to me after she and her companion have breakfasted. I thought I would see what she knows about her father’s activities. Any information she can give us will be helpful. If she has any information that she’s willing to give.”

Willem was quiet for a moment, then said, “She’s very beautiful, is she not?”

A glance at his younger brother showed that Willem was carefully inspecting his knees, his face having turned red, and the sight made Alexander grin. Willem was one of the bravest men Alexander had ever known, especially in battle, yet for all that he was painfully shy of women. Merely mentioning that he found a lady to be beautiful made him blush.

“Yes, she is,” Alexander agreed. “Most beautiful. Not at all what I expected after seeing Jaward.”

Not at all what he’d expected, regardless of Jaward. Alexander had walked into that chamber last night and found himself faced with a woman unlike any he had ever before seen. She was certainly the tallest woman he had ever met with, and she had the blondest hair he’d ever seen, as well. She had looked like a shining angel in the glow of the candlelight. Even her brows were blond, causing her blue eyes to stand out quite noticeably. Alexander had been able to see the light blueness of them right through the dark. Her features were fine, with high cheekbones and a full mouth complementing her pale, white skin. He remembered her hands—strong hands, beautiful, with long, shapely fingers that looked as though they could mete out a great deal of pain—or pleasure.

“Have you decided upon a punishment for the twins, at least?” Willem pressed. “They’re already in the village crowing about their deed to any and all who will listen. Did you know that?”

Alexander gave a sigh, which sounded as tired as he felt. “I know, Willem. God alone knows how well I know. And no, I’ve not decided what I’ll do with them, either. Most of the castlefolk and, I suspect, most of my people, believe I should give them a hero’s reward for what they’ve done. If I punish them as they deserve I’ll have a hundred and more unhappy voices ringing in my ears.”

“And if you don’t punish them,” Willem returned, “you’ll have Hugh and Hugo spending all of their days waylaying travelers on the main road and bringing them back to Gyer as prisoners.”

“I know, I know,” Alexander repeated, lifting one palm in the air in a gesture of helplessness. “But what can I do? Nothing seems to stop them. No punishment, no amount of deprivation, no efforts to make them see the error of their ways. The truth, Willem—” Alexander met his brother’s eyes “—is that when Father spoiled those two, he did it for all eternity. Sometimes I wonder if we shouldn’t all of us accept that fact and simply try to live with it as best we can.”

“We could always foster them,” Willem suggested. “At least we’d be rid of them for a couple of years.”

Alexander made a smirk. “Willem,” he chided, “you know as well as I that the twins will never make knighthood. Fostering them with a master who could train them for that purpose would be utterly foolish. Aside from that, I doubt anyone would take them.”

“If you offered sufficient payment—”

“It wouldn’t matter,” Alexander cut him off. “I could probably offer every groat I possess and it wouldn’t be enough. God knows no one could ever pay me enough to take those two on if I didn’t already have to keep them out of familial responsibility. And,” he added morosely, “you know full well that Father forbade me from ever causing Hugh and Hugo to do what they didn’t wish, and although I deeply regret having made him that foolish promise, I must abide by it.”

The door to the chamber was flung open so suddenly that it caused both men to start. Lillis of Wellewyn, breathtakingly lovely in a dress of light blue silk that matched the color of her eyes, strode into the room as if she had every right to do so without first being invited. Aunt Leta came puffing in behind her, unable to keep up with the taller woman. Both men quickly rose to their feet.

Lillis of Wellewyn, chin held high, stopped in front of Willem and Alexander and opened her mouth to speak, then, with a look of bewilderment, shut it again. She looked from one man to the other, then back again, with a frown. Finally she settled her searching gaze on Alexander and stared at him for a long, assessing moment. He held very still as her blue eyes moved over him, from his face all the way down to his booted feet. When she looked into his face once more her expression was resolved.

“My lord—” she began curtly, but was interrupted.

“I have never known such ill-mannered behavior in all my life!” Aunt Leta exclaimed with indignation. “She would not follow or even wait for me! She went storming down the hallways and I barely had time to tell her which direction to take. One would think she’d been raised as a heathen rather than as a lady!”

Lillis of Wellewyn did not turn her gaze from Alexander’s, and he thought he saw a small, amused smile play on her lips. It vanished as soon as it came, unlike her defiant glare.

“Thank you, Aunt Leta,” Alexander said dismissively.

Aunt Leta stamped her foot in displeasure, and Alexander glanced at her.

“Thank you, Aunt Leta,” he repeated. His aunt angrily pursed her lips and left.

Not hearing a request from Willem to be excused, as he expected, Alexander looked and saw, with amusement, that his brother was gaping in stunned silence at the beautiful lady before them.

“My lady, I trust you passed a pleasant night?” Alexander inquired, turning his eyes to her again. She truly was quite stunning, he thought, even when she was angered. “May I make my brother known to you? This is Sir Willem Baldwin. I regret we had no moment for such courtesies last eve.”

To his surprise, the lady lost her basilisk stare, turned to his brother, graced him with a pleasant smile, and said, “Oh, we did wonder who you were, sir, though we knew your name was Willem. I am pleased to meet you.”

Willem turned bright red. His mouth opened and closed several times but no sound came out. Finally, painfully, he managed to sputter, “I am...honored, my l-lady.”

“Thank you, Sir Willem,” she rejoined politely, then turned to Alexander again and promptly regained her angry glare.

“I believe we have some few matters to discuss, Alexander of Gyer,” she informed him, as though their meeting had been her idea and without a hint of the gentleness with which she’d just treated Willem.

“Yes, we do,” Alexander agreed, suppressing the odd, vague jealousy that tickled the edge of his thoughts. With a hand, he indicated the chair Willem had vacated. “Please sit, my lady. Willem, will you do me the favor of seeing to any matters that the tenants might need settled this morn?”

Willem was still staring at the lady Lillis, but Alexander’s words brought him back to life. “Of course—of course, Alex. Very glad to—to take care of that for you.” He bent a clumsy bow in Lillis of Wellewyn’s direction, then left the room at a near run.

Once his brother was gone, Alexander took a moment to gather his thoughts. He didn’t cherish the position he found himself in. How did one go about telling another person that she was his prisoner?

“I hope you found your chamber comfortable, my lady?”

“Very,” she replied coldly.

“And how is your maid this morn? Edyth is her name, I believe?”

“She is fine, thank you. Frightened and unsettled, but otherwise well.”

Alexander nodded. So, now he was reduced to frightening frail, elderly women out of their wits. The foreign feeling disgusted him, and he wondered how he was going to be able to carry out any of this. He’d understood Lillis of Wellewyn only too well when she had asked whether he was a knight. He had taken a knightly vow to serve God, to defend his country, and to protect and cherish the fairer sex. He certainly was failing in the latter! And yet, he thought, keeping Gyer out of war was worth breaking every vow he had ever made.

“I’m sorry for that. I assure you that my intention is not to frighten or upset either your maid or yourself. Please believe that you will both be treated with respect and consideration while you are here.”

“How very kind you are, my lord,” she replied icily, “but as I told you last eve, we merely wish to take our leave of Gyer as soon as possible. We have enjoyed quite enough of your hospitality.”

Alexander chose his next words carefully. “Again, my lady, I am sorry. It will be necessary for you to remain at Gyer for the time being.”

He was prepared for a typically female reaction to this statement: crying, screaming, wailing. He was not prepared for Lillis of Wellewyn’s reaction. She regarded him coolly, very little emotion showing on her face.

“You appear to be a reasonable man, Alexander of Gyer,” she said, much of the chill gone from her tone. “I cannot be certain, of course, but I do not think you are either insane or inherently evil, so there must be good cause for what you are doing. I would appreciate it, my lord, if you will explain the matter to me.”

Alexander was almost as shocked by her calm response as he’d been by the lady’s looks. Any other female of his acquaintance would now be in a puddle of tears at his feet. But if Lillis of Wellewyn could behave calmly and reasonably, so much the better for all concerned.

“You said last night that you had not been home for many years. I think perhaps you may be unaware of your father’s recent activities. Is this so?”

“My father?” she repeated with surprise. “No, I do not know what his activities are. Even had I been living at home I might not know, for he has ever been private about the management of the estate. Has he—has he done something wrong?”

Alexander regarded her for a moment, then said, “About six months ago your father built a dam on the Eel River, cutting off the main water supply to Gyer. I do not know why he did it, only that he did and that he will not negotiate with me regarding it. As you can imagine, my people have suffered a great deal because of this. Most of their crops have been ruined and now they are wondering how they will survive the coming winter, how they will put bread on their table. I am a wealthy man, my lady—” he shrugged “—and will not hesitate to make certain that my vassals and villeins are cared for, but that will not solve the problem of next year’s crops, and of the years after that. One way or another, by truce or by war, the dam your father built must be torn down. The thought of war is not a happy one for me, but I can see no other course while your father remains so stubborn.”

She had grown still while he spoke. Her eyes had widened and now she stared at him in utter shock. “I had no idea,” she whispered. “I swear I did not.” Her expression pleaded with him to believe her, and he did. “It is no wonder that the people of Gyer received us so angrily yesterday,” she continued, as though speaking to herself. “They must have seen that our guards wore my father’s colors and realized we were from Wellewyn. After what my father has done, I cannot blame them. But why? Why would he do it?”

“I don’t know,” he answered. “I had hoped you might be able to tell me, or give me some clue, but I see that you are as much in the dark as I. Your father has proved immeasurably stubborn in the matter. I’ve tried everything I know of, from offering money to making threats, but he’ll not be swayed. Yesterday I rode to Wellewyn to make him a final offer and he practically threw me out of that rotting pigsty he dares to name castle.”

She frowned at him, and Alexander belatedly realized what he’d said, how basely he’d insulted her home. “Forgive me, my lady. That was mean spirited of me.”

“I understand, Alexander of Gyer. You are very upset and have every right to be. What my father has done is unforgivable.” Still frowning, she looked away from him.

Alexander gazed at the penitently bowed head of his captive and knew an unbidden desire to comfort her. She seemed genuinely unhappy about what her father had done; it would have been cruel for him to turn his anger with Jaward upon that man’s innocent daughter.

“You are not to blame for this, Lillis of Wellewyn. I believe you had no knowledge of your father’s deeds.”

She gazed at him fully, causing his heart to know a strange agitation. “I did not know,” she promised, “but now that I do, I vow I shall do all I can to have the dam torn down. Have you not petitioned the king regarding it?”

He shook his head. “That is the beauty of your father’s scheme. It is perfectly legal, the dam having been built on his land, or rather, on your land. If I ride into Wellewyn to tear it down, I am the one who will attract the king’s wrath—for trespassing on another man’s property.”

She seemed confused. “Why do you call it my land? No part of Wellewyn is mine.”

“But it shall be, my lady, when you wed next month. Your father took particular delight in informing me that, even if he wished to do so, he could not sell the land on which the dam is built because it is part of your bride’s portion. The only man who will have power over that land will be your future husband, the Lord of Dunsted.”

“Then I shall have the dam torn down when I am wed,” she declared, though somewhat uneasily. She seemed to become more embarrassed with each new revelation, and Alexander wondered if she had ever been aware that she had a claim to the lands of Wellewyn.

“That would be ideal,” Alexander admitted, “however, your father made it clear that he’d had the choice of the man you shall wed, and that he and Jason de Burgh have an excellent understanding between them. You do know that Dunsted is directly to the south of Gyer, do you not?”

Again she looked surprised. “No, I did not, though when my father wrote to tell me of my marriage, he said I should live close to Wellewyn. That is one of the reasons I agreed to it. Are you not...friendly with my future husband?”

A bitter laugh escaped him. “Not the least bit friendly, though God knows I have tried time and again to come to terms with the man. There is a strip of land bordering Gyer and Dunsted that the people of both fiefs have disputed the ownership of for many years. The land belongs to Gyer, but Jason de Burgh and his are so stubborn over the matter that they refuse to give way. They insist on making pests of themselves by visiting raids on Gyer, while my people retaliate in kind, regardless of my efforts to stop them. I’ve tried to meet with de Burgh in an effort to come to some kind of settlement, but he persistently refuses to see me.” He drew in a taut breath, then released it. “I think your father has somehow convinced him that a war with Gyer would be profitable for them both, though God only knows what a madness that is.” Alexander rubbed his eyes again and felt weary.

“But this is dreadful,” she whispered, her lovely face gone pale.

“Yes, it is,” Alexander agreed. “With Wellewyn to the north and Dunsted to the south, I shall have quite a noose around my neck, shall I not? The worst part of the scheme is that I am the one who will be forced to declare war. I am the one who will be seen as the aggressor, who will have to face the wrath of the king. Your father could not have plotted a more perfect plan to bring me to ruin.”

Lillis of Wellewyn looked wretchedly miserable. “I hardly know what to say to you, my Lord Gyer. I am so very sorry for what my father has done.”

“You have no need to apologize, my lady,” Alexander assured her. “I have already said that you are not to blame.”

“Still,” she persisted, “it is my father who is the source of your troubles, and I want you to know how deeply ashamed I am.”

“You do not find it hard to believe that your father would do such a thing, though, do you?” he asked, considering her.

“Do not misunderstand, Alexander of Gyer. I love my father. He is all I have ever had and has always shown me great love and kindness. Yet I must admit,” she said almost guiltily, “I have thought that he might be hard-hearted toward others.”

Alexander almost snorted at such a gentle term being used for a devil like Jaward, but since the unhappy lady before him was the man’s daughter, he kept silent.

“I understand, my lord, why you wish to keep me here, and I agree that war must be avoided at every cost, but I beg you to release my companions and myself. I swear to you that I will speak with both my father and my betrothed. I will make certain that the dam is torn down, even if I must tear it down with my own hands.”

“No,” he said softly. “I do not believe that either your father or Jason de Burgh will be stopped simply because you ask it of them.”

She stood suddenly, and her hands fell to determined fists clenched at her sides. “But I give you my vow that I will have the dam destroyed! I will swear to honor this vow by all that is holy, by God himself. All I ask is that you trust me. You will not have reason to be sorry.”

Alexander stood, as well, more out of a desire to be polite than anything else. He was struck again by her tallness; really, her height was a pleasant change from towering over other women.

“I believe you would do your best to carry out what you say, my lady, but I do not believe you would be successful. I have spent the past six months doing all in my power to persuade your father to tear down the dam only to have him laugh in my face. Yesterday he assured me that naught would change his mind.”

“But he would listen to me!” she insisted. “I do not know why he has done what he has, but I do know that he has never denied me anything I have asked of him. I am his only child, and he loves me.”

Alexander raised his eyebrows. “He loves you so much that he kept you from your home for more than ten years?”

Her expression became so suddenly stunned and pained that Alexander wished, powerfully, that he’d never spoken the careless words. She looked at him as if he’d slapped her.

“My lady—” he began in his sincerest, most apologetic tone.

“He did not send me away,” she informed him shakily. “I was living at the convent in Tynedale and being taught how to read and write and work figures. He came to visit me several times, and he wrote to me constantly!”

Worse and worse, he thought. She sounded as if she were trying to convince herself more than him.

“My lady,” he tried again, but she didn’t seem to want his apology.

“I tell you he will listen to me!”

“He might,” Alexander said, “but he might not. Indeed, it’s most likely that he will not. You’ve already admitted that your father has never confided in you regarding the management of Wellewyn. If this is so, then there is little reason to believe he will suddenly listen to any request you might make regarding land that he’s never seen fit to explain will one day be yours. You claim that he loves you, but what kind of man loves his child and sends her from his presence for ten years? Did he never once want you home, even for Christmastide?”

She flushed deeply. “That is no concern of yours, Alexander of Gyer! And it has naught to do with the matter at hand. I have given you my vow that I will see the dam torn down. My sacred, solemn vow. Will you or will you not let my companions and myself go free?”

“I have told you that I will not,” Alexander replied, “and I have told you why.”

She drew in a deep breath, pressed her lips together tightly and sat down with a thump. Alexander sat again, as well, wondering rather uncomfortably if he was now going to be treated to the screaming and wailing he had expected earlier.

“Will you at least let me write my father and ask him to fulfill your demands? He will be more inclined to comply if I do the writing.”

Well, so much for screaming and wailing, he thought, picking up his ink quill in a careless gesture.

“I’ve not yet decided whether I’m going to write to your father. I shall have to consider what is best to be done.”

She sat forward in her chair. “But you must write him! My father’s not been well, and he’s been expecting me these past two days already. He’ll be terribly worried by now. You must at least let him know that I’m all right.”

Alexander felt an unexpected surge of anger. “You will have to forgive me, my lady, if I don’t care whether your father worries or not. He’s given my people and myself no reason to love him.”

His sudden anger caused her to sit back again, as though she wished to be as far away from him as possible, and he regretted having spoken so harshly.

“Forgive me,” he apologized quietly, thinking that it was more than the third time he’d done so that morn. “I fear I am rather worn from dealing with your father of late. I have a great many vassals who have labored hard to save their crops, to no avail. The thought of having to tell them to prepare for war against both Wellewyn and Dunsted in the face of all they’ve already suffered sickens me.”

She made no reply, and Alexander looked up and saw that her eyes were wide upon him, filled with a sympathy he’d never have expected from the daughter of his enemy.

“I understand what a terrible situation you’re in, Alexander of Gyer,” she said, “but what good will it do you to hold us here? If you don’t let us go, there will most certainly be a war. My father will call on Jason de Burgh and you will have his men, however few they may be compared to your own, swarming around you, demanding our release.”

“I know,” Alexander admitted soberly. “That is why I must think carefully on what is to be done. I harbor no falsehoods about which side will win should a war erupt. Neither your father’s nor your betrothed’s men could possibly stand against the strength of my own army. Still, I have no desire to kill any man without need. But these are not matters to concern yourself with, my lady. I shall do my best to keep anyone from coming to harm.” He offered her what he hoped was an encouraging smile. “Now that you are aware of why you are being held I will try to come to some kind of decision as soon as I can. Until then, please believe that you and your maid and guards will be treated as guests in my home, save you’ll not be allowed the freedom of the castle without escort or be allowed to go outside the castle itself. Have you any requests to make of me regarding your comfort?”

She contemplated Alexander in silence, long enough for him to feel uncomfortable beneath her steady gaze, long enough for him to understand something about the pride behind the eyes that held his own so determinedly. “My maid and I will take all of our meals in our room,” she answered at last, breaking the silence and bringing him relief. “As prisoners in your home, we would not feel comfortable partaking food with your family. We will wish to attend chapel in the mornings. I assume you have a chapel at Gyer?”

Her mocking tone made him smile in wry amusement. He was one of the wealthiest men in England, as she must have very well surmised from the size and richness of Castle Gyer. Of course there was a chapel, which she must know very well, too. “Yes, indeed, my lady,” he answered with a hint of matching sarcasm. “It is just outside the inner bailey. I shall be happy to escort you and your Edyth there for the morning mass.”

“You are kind, sir,” she said without expression. “Our things were brought to us this morn and we now have our needlework to keep us occupied. However, the chamber we are in does not receive enough light during the day to make the work easy, and so we will require a place that is well lit in which to pass the day.”

That was easily enough remedied. “The women of the household do their needlework in a certain corner of the great hall that receives full sunlight during most of the day,” he said, “and that is near a fireplace for warmth. I’m sure that both my aunt and my betrothed will be glad to have your company there.”

“Your betrothed?”

“The Lady Barbara Baldwin,” he replied, noting her look of surprise. “You’ve not had a chance to meet the rest of my family yet. My betrothed is my cousin, distantly related, and lives under my protection. Both she and her brother reside at Gyer.”

Lillis of Wellewyn seemed to struggle for a moment, then finally said with forced politeness, “Becoming acquainted with the rest of your family, my lord, is a pleasure that I fear I do not crave. Your brother, Willem, seems meet enough, but your aunt and twin brothers—”

“Yes, I know,” he interrupted in an angry tone. “My younger brothers are wild, untamed fiends, as you know firsthand. Our mother died seven years ago when they were but eight years of age, and they’ve been out of hand ever since. Even before then they were my father’s favorites, and spoiled beyond enduring. After my mother’s death he kept them close to himself and gave them free rein. No one was allowed to reprimand them, and he certainly never did. He coddled them into just the sort of creatures whom you met yesterday, and since his death I’ve not had much luck in taming them.”

“Then you are much to be pitied, my Lord Gyer.”

Something about the tone of her voice made Alexander defensive. “I have tried to discipline them, my lady.”

“I’m sure you have, my lord. Now, about my guards—”

He raised a hand to stop her. “I saw to them this morn. They have been moved to suitable quarters and are being kept under watch. I’ve made it clear that they’re to be allowed as much freedom as possible with supervision. Their meals will be the same as those that you are given, so that you will know they are well fed.”

She seemed satisfied with this and rose to leave. “That is well, then. I should like to return to the chamber you’ve given us, my lord, and inform my maid of our situation. We will devote the remainder of the morn praying for a resolution to the problem at hand, as it is now far too late to attend mass.”

She sounded just like the nuns she’d once lived with, Alexander thought as he rose to escort her. “You must not worry, Lady Lillis, over your care while you remain at Gyer.” He spoke the words without thought, as simple courtesy. “I swear by God’s holy name that you and your companions shall be treated as though you were members of my own family.”

She seemed to find his words quite amusing, for she smiled, then laughed, and looked and sounded so beautiful doing so that it nearly stole Alexander’s breath away.

“My lord,” she said, “I do hope you’ll not take my words amiss, but I promise you that my companions and I would far rather be counted your prisoners than ever be considered members of the family Baldwin.”